


Healer on the ground

by Owlmemaybe



Series: Tales from the Ground [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, F/F, F/M, Grounder Culture, Healer Clarke, M/M, Season/Series 01, Smart Clarke, Smart Lexa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-02-10 19:00:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 101,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12918216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlmemaybe/pseuds/Owlmemaybe
Summary: Clarke is the last in a long line of healers, hiding their strange gift for centuries. When circumstances separate her from the other delinquents, she stumbles on the Commander of the grounders and her secret is revealed.Soon, she finds herself drowning in the grounders wars and politics as she searches for her people and tries to help their Commander.





	1. Separation

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fanfiction on this fandom - I only discovered it last summer.  
> To be clear, I have only seen the first three seasons, and I have not read the books. I might take some liberties regarding the grounders' culture, but I promise to keep the whole thing coherent in this AU. So if something bothers you, don't hesitate to ask and I will answer, unless it is a spoiler of course ;)  
> Oh, and Clarke's abilities are based on a French story by Bottero (with some liberties, of course).  
> Most of the story is already written, so I should post regularly - once a week for now.  
> Hope you enjoy it!

Clarke groaned in pain.

She was lying down, her face in the mud that had formed in the trap near the tree where they had rescued Jasper a few days ago.

She had told Bellamy that her wristband would not report to the Ark that she was dead until she was. Again.

She probably shouldn't have.

The boy had apparently grown tired of her refusing to obey him, and most likely of her influence on the rest of the delinquents. More and more had started to listen to her, when hunger and safety had started to worm their way past their high of freedom.

When the strange acid fog had spread through the forest, Bellamy had found Atom first, and killed him. It was a mercy kill, but she could have saved him.

She should have saved Jasper. Instead of searching for medicine to protect her secret. She should have just healed him, secrecy be damned. She hadn't dared. And now he was dead. Bellamy got tired of his moans of pain and killed him. The others let him, because they did not believe her when she said the seaweed would help him.

And then Charlotte killed Wells. She hadn't seen her best friend since before she was in solitary after her father's execution. He had gotten on the dropship for her. And was dead just a few days later.

She had accused Bellamy, at first. He found Murphy's knife near the dark boy's body and accused him, and nearly hanged him before Charlotte confessed. She threw herself off a cliff, and when Bellamy turned on Murphy, Clarke punched the young man and screamed at the boy to run.

She should have known that Bellamy wouldn't tolerate that. In fact, she was pretty sure that if Octavia hadn't liked her, he would probably have acted sooner.

But the brunette was partially blind to her brother's madness, and she couldn't be around all the time.

Bellamy struck as soon as Clarke went away from the camp on her own. He followed her, knocked her down, tied her with the makeshift rope he had tried to hang Murphy with, and then carried her to the pit trap.

There, he had struck her in the face again, cut the rope with a knife and pushed her in the hole.

''Looks like our Princess wandered off and had a tragic accident!'' He sneered before turning his back and returning to camp.

She wasn't sure the others would truly buy his story, but it was clear that she was no longer safe at the dropship. Thankfully for her, though, Bellamy had – unknowingly – overlooked a very important detail.

Clarke.

She was very hard to kill.

Not that the process wouldn't be painful, with one spike that piercing through her abdomen, and another through her right shoulder.

Gritting her teeth, she moved her left hand until she could use it to push herself up. She trembled as she felt the spikes slowly exiting her body, but forced herself to keep going. If she fell, she would just have to do it all over again, and she had no wish to prolong the pain.

Her shoulder was the first to be free of the spike, and she had felt her wound close as soon as the wood was out. She paused and panted, waiting a couple more seconds for her right arm to be fully healed and for her heartbeat to slow back to normal. Then she used both arms and legs to finish pushing herself up and free of the last spike, her skin and muscles closing behind it.

Once it was over, she carefully rose to her feet, her left hand absently rubbing her stomach as the tingling sensation vanished.

She had never been more thankful for her gift.

She peered out at the top of the pit, screening for Bellamy. Apparently, he hadn't waited for her. Good. But she had to move. He or another delinquent might come to ensure she was dead and it would probably be better if she was no longer there when they did.

She glanced at the spikes that were covered in her blood. Hopefully they would think the Grounders took her body.

The pit wasn't very deep, and she managed to haul herself out with the help of some vines. She then checked her pockets. Bellamy had been in a hurry to deal with her, and hadn't bothered to search her once she was tied up. Meaning that she still had her knife, her half-empty canteen of water and the straps of seatbelt she had taken in hope of making a snare.

Well, on the bright side, she would only have one mouth to feed now – hers.

With a sigh, she started walking away from the dropship. She was on her own, the day was late, she had to find some sort of shelter before dark. Hunting would have to wait until tomorrow.

She found a cave that was narrow, but deep, and with enough space for her to lie down comfortably. Exhausted by the stress of the last few days, she fell asleep as soon as she settled her head on the hard ground.

She awoke shivering when light peeked out in her cave. The days were growing colder, and the holes in her clothing from the spikes did not help. She needed to find a blanket and warmer clothes, if she wanted to survive.

She could heal from almost any wound, but even her gift would not prevent her from freezing to death – it would just prolong her suffering.

She recoiled at the thought, wondering if that was what had happened to her father when he was floated.

Though rare, her gift was not unique in the old world. In fact, it had existed almost since the beginnings of humanity. The gift of healing. Divided by time, and reunited by love. Her parents' love, more precisely. Her.

She was perhaps the first human since Antiquity to have the complete healing gift, enabling her to survive most wounds and illnesses, and to heal others by simply touching them.

In the old world, for an unknown reason, these two facets had evolved in two distinct gifts, with individuals often unaware that they even had one. Those who could heal others – like her mother – were often drawn to professions like medicine, so the fact that patients were better after consulting them was perceived as normal by everyone. Those who could heal themselves – like her father – had often appeared as simply healthy people. After all, most people went through life without suffering a fatal wound.

However, some people noticed the gifts – in themselves or others.

Those who healed had been revered in ancient times, until science led everyone away from the temples. But the power remained, and was transmitted from parent to child. It was sad, really, that so many temples forbade its initiates from having children. There would have been much more healers otherwise.

Those who healed themselves – though Clarke knew intimately that it was not a conscious process at all, it just happened – had unfortunately been a cause of jealousy for many. Often, they had been called demons and hunted. Though resilient, they could still be killed – asphyxia or freezing mostly.

Even on the Ark, her parents had hidden their gifts from others, and ordered her to do the same. They had been right. If Bellamy had known, he would probably have drowned her in the river instead of throwing her in the trap. Secrecy had saved her life.

She shook herself out of her morbid thoughts and considered her options. She could return to the dropship, and try to sneak in long enough to grab clothes and a blanket. But her blonde hair made her noticeable – not to mention her blood-covered clothes. Besides she knew there were few warm clothes in the camp. She couldn't bring herself to steal the few they had.

That left her with only one other option: the grounders. If she could find their camp, village or whatever, she would find furs. Question was, how would she obtain them? Should she steal? Or try to trade? Would they even allow her near them? They had speared Jasper when they crossed the river, but hadn't made any move to attack since then. And, really, they had healed Jasper – so had it been a warning, or were they truly using him as bait?

She sighed and crawled out of her cave. First, she had to eat. Then, she would worry about finding grounders while walking away from the dropship. Since she had decided not to return there, she should put as much distance between the other delinquents and herself.

She spared a thought for Monty. The poor boy had recently lost his best friend, and now he had lost her as well. She hoped he would keep trying to contact the Ark. Bellamy had to be stopped, the sooner the better. Octavia was safe – he would never hurt his own sister, physically at least – and she liked Monty, she would protect him from her brother. Finn as well. He was a coward, but he had charmed several in listening to him and had stood up to Bellamy before.

She set to work, walking away from her shelter and keeping her eyes open for edible berries that she picked as she walked. It must have been almost noon when she heard a river.

It was a much smaller one than when they had tried to reach Mount Weather, but the water was clear and the banks sported the marks of animals. She set up a couple of snares in the bushes, then walked upstream for half a mile – she didn't want to frighten away all the game. She picked more berries and filled her canteen with fresh water.

She glanced down at her stomach and hesitated. The water was cool, but not freezing and she was still covered in dried blood and mud. There were still a good few hours of daylight.

She shrugged and started to remove her clothes. She literally couldn't get sick from a cold, so why hesitate?

She entered the water carefully, watching out for any water snake – the river seemed too small for one as big as the one who attacked Octavia to live in, but she was still wary. She shivered as the wind hit her skin and scrubbed herself, wishing she had some soap to help remove all the dirt she had accumulated.

Despite those conditions, it only took her a few minutes to clean herself, even rinsing her hair. She enjoyed the feeling of being immersed in water – back in the Ark, she would never have believed she might experience it one day – for a few minutes, before exiting the river and laying on the rocky bank to dry.

The sun was slowly starting to descend when she put her clothes back on, grimacing and regretting that she had not thought of washing them at the smell. Then she attempted to comb her still wet hair with her fingers. It would be a mess later.

She was tempted to go and check her snares, but reasoned that she should give it more time. So she started looking for her shelter for the night, and found one about a mile from her snares. She spent the rest of the afternoon picking berries and carrying them to her new cave. It was much larger than the previous one, and she briefly thought of settling there.

But it was still too close from the dropship, and she had to find furs anyway. Still, she resolved to remember the place, just in case.

That night, she ate a third of the berries she had collected before going to sleep early. She would check her snares on the morrow.

She was lucky. Both of her snares had worked. One held a small rabbit, while the other held a much bigger hare. Using her knife, she quickly ended their lives and drained both before putting the snares up again. Since she had chanced on a good spot, she would be a fool not to exploit it.

She returned to her cave, gathering wood along the way. She would need a fire to cook the rabbit. The hare, she decided to keep for now. She might trade it if she found grounders today. Halfway to her camp, she took the time to empty her catches and bury the bowels. She didn't want to deal with another panther when she was only armed with a knife – with her gift, she would probably survive, but she was not a masochist and would rather avoid the pain of that, thank you very much.

Starting a small fire was easy after all the practice of the first few days at the dropship, and she was soon drooling while she waited for the rabbit to cook. She prepared the skin as best as she could, and used her knife to cut away a stripe and pierce the skin at regular intervals until she had fashioned herself a sort of pouch.

She forced herself to be reasonable as she ate, and used her new pouch to store the rest of the meat and berries. If she was careful, she had enough for a couple of days. More if she ate the hare as well. As an afterthought, she also grabbed a few pieces of charcoal after putting out her fire. It was not as good as the charcoal she had in the Ark, but it was better than nothing.

She decided to return to the river and continue to follow it upstream. It would still take her away from the dropship, and she was more likely to stumble on a village if she kept close to a source of clear water. Before that, she went to retrieve her snares. They were empty, but she supposed it was not so surprising in the middle of the day and so soon after setting them up. She added them to her pouch.

The sun was already low when she heard voices and stilled. She tilted her head to pinpoint where the sound was coming from and resumed her walk, though she was now half crouched in the bushes. She managed to distinguish voices and laughter – young laughter.

Soon, she found herself on the outskirt of a very small village. There were a dozen huts at most, but they seemed to be sturdy and at least a few years old. These people had lived here for a while. A woman and two men were conversing while keeping an eye on the four children that were chasing one another. Clarke was almost shocked by the obvious similarities between them – it was obviously two pairs of siblings. She had never seen siblings before Octavia and Bellamy, and she wasn't sure those two had the same father. Anyway, they didn't look as much alike as the three girls and one boy she saw now.

Clarke took a deep breath to calm her nerves. All the adults carried a weapon of some sort, but they seemed friendly enough as they watched their children play. Certainly not the savages she had imagined after Jasper's attack, she considered with some shame.

And again, her gift would protect her if they proved unwelcoming.

Slowly, she walked backwards and rose to her full height, and then walked around the village until she reach a wide trail that she assumed was a road to the village. She approached, trying to look relaxed and not threatening, her hare thrown over her right shoulder.

The conversation stopped as soon as the adults noticed her, but the children kept playing for a while longer. When everyone was staring at her, she paused and raised her empty hands with a nervous smile, then pointed to her hare, unsure of what she should say – and afraid her tight throat would not let out more than an unbecoming squeak. Two of the adults herded the children to a nearby house while the third approached her. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed other people staring at her from behind their windows.

Obviously, they weren't used to seeing strangers.

The man who had approached her addressed her in a foreign language, and Clarke started. She knew they had landed on the East coast of the former United States, and she had – apparently foolishly – expected the survivors to speak English. She knew, of course, that languages evolved, but for a completely new one to emerge in less than a hundred years?

Her confusion must have shown, because the man shook his head and repeated himself slowly. When she shook her head and shrugged, he tried in another language though it was clear that he was not fluent in this one. Still, Clarke couldn't understand the words.

It wasn't hard to guess what he must be asking, though, so she again pointed to the hare, then to him and her tattered clothes. She saw his eyes widen when he saw the hole on her abdomen, and she belatedly remembered that her clothes were still covered in blood.

'Great'. She thought. 'Now, they are gonna think I stole this from a corpse, since I don't even have a scar!'

The man took a cautious step forward, pointed to the knife in her belt and then to a nearby basket. With a nod, Clarke slowly took her knife and threw it in the designated basket. Instantly, the man relaxed and, turning around, called out in the first language. Several people exited their homes, including the children from earlier.

The man exchanged a few words with some women, pointing to her, the hare and her clothes several times. Finally, a woman went into her house and came back out with a small package. She stood in front of Clarke and showed her the items.

It was clothes, made of leather and furs. It took some more gesturing, but Clarke was able to touch the items to appreciate their sturdiness and thickness. They seemed much more reliable than her current clothes. With a smile, she pointed to the whole lot, then her hare and tilted her head in question with a smile. The woman wrapped all the clothes in the cloak and handed it to her while Clarke offered her the hare.

The woman grinned, and then grabbed her hand, pulling her inside her house and explaining to her through more gestures that she should change. Clarke accepted with a grateful smile.

The clothes were warm and comfortable, and the cloak would serve her well as a blanket for now. Moreover, she was reassured that at least some grounders were friendly.

She was surprised when the man who had first talked to her approached her when she exited the hut, talking and gesturing with a smile. After some time, she understood that he was inviting her to eat with them all – her hare was being chopped with vegetables and herbs in a big pot near the bonfire in the center of the village. She was hesitant – she had just offered them the hare, surely she was not supposed to eat it? – but the man and others insisted and she accepted. The less she used her meager provisions, the better, and the sun was setting soon. Hopefully, they wouldn't mind if she slept by the fire after the meal.

The meal was the most tasty thing she had ever had, and the company very enjoyable, even if she couldn't understand the conversations. The families made an effort to include her by gesturing, and even taught her a couple sentences. She was soon able to introduce herself and she drew animals and other things in the dirt to ask the words used for them. The children were delighted by her drawings, pulling on her sleeve to ask her for more animals, which led to many childish imitations with hands to signify antlers or tails.

All in all, it was the most fun she had had since her father's death.

When the parents led their children to bed, she continued talking to the adults, her drawings becoming more practical. One woman pointed to her hair and tried to ask her something. After some time, she understood that the grounders were intrigued by the color of her hair. Looking around, she noticed that all the grounders had brown or dark hair. One child, she recalled had dark blonde hair. Apparently, her shade wasn't common. She just shrugged.

Blonde hair was less common than dark, even before the bombs. It would make sense that it was even rarer now, and since this village was small and apparently out of the way, it wasn't so surprising that they had never encountered her particular coloring before. With an internal grimace, she realized that the same was probably true about her eyes. Which would make her quite noticeable wherever she went.

Well, she couldn't see Bellamy making peace with the grounders to ask about her anytime soon, so it probably didn't matter. As long as she stayed out of trouble with the locals, no one else would have any reason to search for her.

The villagers even offered her a bed for the night, which she accepted gratefully. It was the most comfortable lie-in she had experienced since her old bed in her parents' rooms in the Ark. The presence of real walls around her and a ceiling above her made her feel safe, and she had her best night sleep since coming to the ground.


	2. Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is here! Important meeting in this one ;)  
> Update next week, unless some AI decides to wipe the world before it. (by the way, there will be no ALIE is this story)

She spent the three following days in the village, learning more of the language – which she guessed had been derived from English. because many words sounded similar or truncated – and helping with several tasks in exchange of the hospitality. She gathered wood, weaved baskets, played with and watched over the children.

But as enjoyable as life was withthose villagers, she still felt too close to her former camp. She knew the delinquents would have to forage for food further and further away from the dropship. They could stumble on this village and her during one of those expeditions, and she was not certain how they would react if they did – it would depend on far too many things for her to gamble on it.

And the adults were bound to become more curious about her as time passed. She was quite certain they had only refrained from asking her questions because they mistook her for a traveler, and because she was still far from fluent in their language.

On the last evening, she indicated her desire to continue her journey – to the disappointment of the children, so she promised to draw their favorite animal on the wall of their rooms. The villagers insisted to offer her a bag with a few essentials – a wooden bowl, a better knife than her own, a few stripes of leather for her snares, and a comb that seemed made from antlers. She accepted gratefully.

The next day, she made her way back to the river and continued to follow it upstream. She spent the next few days in a routine similar to before she found the village, but her nights were much more comfortable with warm clothes and the thick cloak. She had also learnt to recognize more berries, as well as prepare and position her snares better, so she had enough to eat. It was certainly not a feast, but it was more than the half-rations she used to have in solitary – when the guards didn't steal it for themselves.

After a week, though, she decided to find another village and settle near it. She should be far enough away for no delinquents to find her by chance, yet still close enough to easily retrace her steps if she decided to return.

Moreover, the days were growing colder and the trees were losing their leaves. Berries were not as plentiful, and she knew she had to find a more permanent place to prepare for the winter. She had no idea of when exactly it would arrive, nor what it would entail besides the cold and general lack of food – rain? snow? blizzard?

A day after leaving the first village, her wristband had fallen. She had felt an electrical shock up her right arm, and the thing had just stopped functioning and broken open. She had stumbled at the sensation and then stared at it for a long minute, waiting for the constant humming to return. When it did not, she retrieved it and put it in her bag. It might be worth something in trading.

She just hoped this meant the Ark had collected enough data, or that Monty had managed to reach them.

She got her answer a couple of days later, when a shower of shooting stars illuminated the night sky. Realizing what it was – a massive funeral – she cried herself to sleep in her cave that night. Had Bellamy managed to remove enough wristbands for the Ark to think they were dying of radiation or something? She knew her own wristband was undamaged. It could work – it had just been suddenly deactivated. Who could do that if not the Ark?

She hoped her mother had examined the data and would convince the Council that there were no radiations. She hoped Monty would find a way. She prayed her mother would find her way to the ground, and to her. She had already lost all her friends – either because they were dead, or because they believed that she was dead – she didn't want to lose her last family.

She found another village a few days later. It was a much bigger one, with several dozen of houses, and she observed it from afar for a while. She had accumulated a few furs to trade, along with her wristband, but she was worried of how she would be received. Unless the other village, there were clearly warriors in this one.

Realizing that she would not be able to just walk in as she had done the last time, she climbed in a tree to observe before deciding on a course of action. If it appeared too complicated to get inside, she would just have to push forwards a couple more days until she found a smaller, less guarded village.

From her vantage point, Clarke noticed a small group approaching the village. There was something strange, though. The shape of the figures was odd, and the pace seemed extremely fast for a human.

As they drew closer, her jaw dropped. Horses. Real, living, horses, carrying more warriors.

She was not the only one interested in the visitors, it seemed, as she saw many villagers abandoned what they were doing to mass towards the entrance of the village. Clarke decided to use the confusion to slip in. The warriors seemed to be guarding the edges more than patrolling in the streets, and with many visitors, people should be less likely to notice her, right?

Sneaking in was ridiculously easy, as the guards seemed young and clearly more interested in whoever was arriving – straining their necks towards the commotion – than in actually watching the forest and bushes. Once in the streets, Clarke noticed the huge amount of food being prepared and the unlit bonfire, as well as a few kegs that must be containing some alcoholic beverage. It seemed she had stumbled upon a feast. Perhaps the chief of the village was the one arriving, or some local famous person?

Shaking her head, she took it upon herself to approach a few people and, using her basic trigedasleng – that was the name of the language – explained her wish to trade. She was pointed to a few stalls in the main streets and resigned herself to making her way through the crowd.

By then, the riders had also reached the main street. A huge man was following a young woman, both dressed as warriors, and two smaller but still impressive riders followed them, carrying bows across their backs. An escort.

They stopped in the main street – much to Clarke's annoyance – and dismounted. The two archers immediately grabbed the horses of the first two warriors and led them away, while the woman saluted the crowd and started a speech. Apparently, she was the one the crowd was waiting for. She looked young – just a few years older than hersefl, Clarke estimated.

Clarke couldn't understand what she was saying – too many unknown words – and didn't care. She shouldered and elbowed her way to the front of the crowd while muttering apologies, still intent on reaching the stall that had been indicated to her and that was, of course, on the other side of the street.

Perhaps because she was the only one not focused on the young woman, she saw them even before the huge warrior. Three people suddenly jumped towards the young woman, daggers in hand. She must have been an accomplished warrior, because she managed to dodge two of the knives while unsheathing her sword and knocking away the third, which ended up cutting her left harm instead of piercing her heart. The huge warrior immediately stepped forward to engage the other two.

Neither noticed the fourth one, who had obviously waited for the distraction provided by the other three to attack from the back. No one else noticed, the crowd screaming and staring at the fight or running away from it.

No one but Clarke.

She didn't think. She just ran, afraid that screaming a warning would simply allow the first three to gain the upper hand. She reached the woman an instant before the fourth assassin and threw herself in the path of the knife. She felt it bury itself deep in the side of her chest and groaned in pain, but grabbed the arm of the attacker with a snarl. Meanwhile, the woman had dispatched her first opponent and, hearing the commotion behind her, swirled around.

Clarke saw green eyes widen as they took in the scene and gritted her teeth when the assassin twisted the knife in an effort to make her release his arm. The warrior woman recovered quickly and skewered him before he could pull away.

The weight of the man falling to the ground and the pain made Clarke fall to her knees. She was surprised to see the woman stumble as well, using her sword as a crutch. She didn't seem to have any wound apart from the nick on her arm. She was surprised to see black liquid oozing from the wound – was that blood?

Then she felt the burning sensation in her chest and saw the sweat on the forehead of the woman.

Poison. Fucking assassins had poisoned their knives.

She glanced behind her. The huge warrior had killed the last two men and seemed fine. When he realized his charge was struggling to remain upwards, he turned to the crowd and screamed for a Fisa.

Clarke grabbed the knife in her chest, and felt a warm hand touch her arm.

She was surprised to hear the woman speak English.

''Don't. You will bleed to death.''

Clarke smiled. ''Don't worry.''

She pulled out the knife with a moan of pain and let it fall to the ground. Then she turned to the woman who had fallen to her knees – from the poison or the shock of seeing her wound close immediately, Clarke didn't know.

''How..?''

Clarke shook her head. She had felt the poison spreading fast before she removed the knife, if the woman had been inoculated with the same one, now was not the time for conversation. She had failed Jasper and Atom, she would not fail this woman. And her secret was already out, anyway.

She raised her hand towards the woman and saw her flinch. She paused.

''I am not gonna hurt you. I am a healer.''

Without waiting to see if the woman agreed, she grabbed her left wrist in her dominant hand and placed her right palm on the wound. The woman hissed in pain at the pressure, and Clarke felt her shoulders being grabbed by someone. Whoever it was tried to pull her away, but she held onto the woman's arm until she felt only smooth skin beneath her palm. Then she released her hold and was immediately thrown to the ground.

''Gustus, no!'' She recognized the voice of the young woman. ''She saved me!''

Unfortunately, the huge warrior was unable to stop his arm before he punched her face. She saw stars and felt darkness envelop her.

She woke up in a bed of fur, and noticed that the ceiling was made of cloth. A tent, she surmised.

She sat up, remembering what had happened before she lost consciousness. This warrior had a nasty right hook, and without her gift she would probably be nursing a concussion.

''You are awake.''

She turned towards the voice. The woman from earlier was sat in a chair next to her bed, staring at her.

Clarke looked around as she replied. ''Your warrior can certainly pack a punch.'' The tent was huge, and she was currently in a section separated from the main area by a big fur that seemed to work as a curtain.

''I apologize for Gustus. He didn't realize you weren't part of the attack when you grabbed my arm.''

Clarke waved the apology away. ''No harm done. Are you the one in charge of the village?'' She asked curiously.

The woman's lips curled in amusement and disbelief. ''You do not know who I am?''

Clarke focused back on her. ''Er… Should I?''

Green eyes filled with amusement. ''I am Lexa, Commander of the Twelve Clans.''

That sounded important. ''Oh.''

So eloquent. Really, that was probably the most thought-out thing she had ever said, she sarcastically berated herself.

She mentally shook herself. ''And, er… What does that mean?''

She saw the amusement dissolve into disbelief and distrust. She grimaced. Somehow, that had clearly not been the right thing to say. ''I meant no offense. I am kind of new in the area, and just passing through.''

She hoped that would work. It was enirely true, after all. And if that person was as important as her title sounded, it would probably be wise not to insult her.

The woman shook her head and explained. ''There are twelve clans that share the lands between the Dead Lands, the Frozen Lands and the Sea. This village is part of the _Trikru_ , the Woods Clan. I am _Heda_ – Commander – and united the clans in a Coalition. I am in charge of this _Kongeda_.''

Clarke nodded, absorbing the information. She had apparently stumbled on an assassination attempt on the most powerful person of the former East Coast. Great.

She glanced at the fur that led to the main area. Was she allowed to go?

''Er… Are the stalls still open? I was hoping to trade.'' She tried, hoping for a quick thank you and an equally quick dismissal.

Lexa sat straighter in her chair.

''I have a few questions for you.''

Of course. The woman had just seen her heal from a poisoned stab wound in the chest, and then seal her own poisoned wound on the arm. It was probably too much to hope that she would just nod her head, smile and let it go.

It would have been nice, though. She grimaced and let herself fall back in the bed, glaring at the ceiling. She had a feeling it was safer than glaring at the Commander.

''Who are you?''

Clarke hesitated. Should she give her real name? Make one up? She glanced at the warrior, who was growing impatient. Her hand was resting on her sword handle. The blonde huffed, irritated by the whole situation.

''My name is Clarke.'' She snapped and nodded towards the sword. ''And you can put that away. Rather than resorting to violence, I offer you a deal. You ask all your questions, I swear I will tell you the truth. But if I don't want to answer, you don't force me.''

The woman looked affronted. ''You believe you are in position to make demands?''

Clarke raised on her elbows. She could not have an argument laying down. ''I just saved your life, and I don't owe you anything.'' She pointed out. She smirked and added. ''Besides, you saw what happened when that guy stabbed me. Do you honestly think your sword will be any different?''

The woman's hand clenched for a second then relaxed. She exhaled slowly as she released her grip on her weapon.

''You are right, it was unfair of me to threaten you and make demands when I owe you my life. I will accept your deal. For now.'' She unstrapped her sword and laid it on a nearby table. Then she raised an eyebrow at Clarke. ''May I ask my questions now?''

That girl had spunk. Clarke nodded. ''Fire away.''

The Commander's face was confused for a second, but she obviously decided to ignore it for now. Clarke took note of the fact that she was apparently not fluent in expressions and second degree.

''Where are you from?''

She deliberated. Would she believe her if she said from space? Did she know about the delinquents? Jasper had received a spear in the chest when he crossed the river. Probably better not to answer that for now.

''Next question.'' She said, deadpan.

Lexa frowned. ''Are you going to answer that to all my questions? This should be an easy one.''

''Not for me. So, next question.''

''Are you from _Azgeda_?''

''Where is that?'' Clarke asked in reply, curious at how the other woman had tensed when she mentioned the name.

''The Clan north of here.'' She explained.

''Ah. No, I have mostly traveled west and north this last week. I have never been higher in the north than here.''

Lexa nodded. ''You are traveling. Where are you going?''

''I don't know.'' She heard the Commander hiss in frustration. She sighed and elaborated. ''I don't have a destination, I don't even know the name of this place. I was hoping to find some cave or shelter soon to prepare for winter.''

She felt the stare directed at her. ''Do you travel alone?''

''Yes.''

''Why? The woods can be dangerous so close to the cold season. Predators are hungry.''

Clarke grimaced. She had no wish to explain everything that happened at the dropship. Again, she wondered if the Commander knew of the hundred delinquents that had appeared in her lands – or perhaps they had been lucky and had landed just beyond the border?

''Next question.'' She decided.

''Really?'' Lexa protested.

Clarke turned towards her. ''If I don't want to talk about where I am from, is it really so surprising that I won't say why I am alone either?''

The warrior sighed and admitted. ''I suppose not.'' Then she looked her in the eyes. ''How did you heal yourself? And me?''

Clarke chuckled. ''I am actually surprised you waited so long to ask that one.'' She shrugged. ''I can't really explain how. I just can.''

Lexa tilted her head. ''I must say I am surprised you answered that one, however unhelpful your answer is.''

Clarke sat up again, tired of looking at the ceiling, and situated herself across from the other woman, cross-legged on the bed. ''I don't think I could convince you that you just had an hallucination, so why not? It is not something I can teach anyone. It is just a part of who I am. I was born that way.''

Eyebrows shot up. ''Why have I never heard of you before?''

She shrugged. ''I don't usually advertise it. As far as I know, you are the first one to find out outside of my parents.''

''Why help me, then? If you value secrecy so much, and do not know who I am.'' She asked with genuine curiosity.

''Circumstances changed. And I am tired of seeing people die when I could help them.'' She gestured towards where she supposed the entrance of the tent was. ''You obviously matter to a lot of people.''

''I was certainly lucky you were passing through today. That poison was fast.''

She stayed silent, obviously considering everything she had heard so far.

She looked at her intensely as she resumed her questions. ''You said you traveled west and north. You speak _Gonasleng_. Are you from the Mountain? Mount Weather?''

Clarke startled, and Lexa obviously noticed, tensing. ''Mount Weather? Why would I be from there? Isn't it abandoned?'' She asked, confused.

Lexa's eyes narrowed. ''You know the name. Yet your confusion seems genuine.'' She paused again, and Clarke glanced nervously at the fur again.

''You are one of those _goufas_ who fell from the sky.'' Lexa stated.

Clarke deflated. So much for keeping her origins secret. She sighed her answer. ''Yes.''

''Why are you here and alone, then? It is quite a distance to travel by foot.''

She grimaced. ''Long story short, I disagreed too much with the guy who had appointed himself leader. More and more people were listening to me, so he threw me in this panther trap and left me to die on those spikes.''

Lexa looked shocked. ''And you survived that?'' She exclaimed.

Clarke just raised an eyebrow and stared at her, amused. Damn, it felt good to not have to come up with a lie and just watch as realization dawned on the brunette's features.

The young woman's lips curled. ''Of course. Does your… ability have some sort limitations, or are you somehow immortal?''

She scoffed. ''Do you seriously expect me to answer that one?'' She paused, considering. ''I age normally though. So that's a no for the immortal part.''

She saw the other woman nod. She decided to ask a question of her own. ''Since you know where I am from, can you tell me what happened to the others? Do you know?''

''Your former companions set a village on fire. I authorized Anya, one of my generals, to deal with them. I asked her to bring the prisoners back to Polis.''

Clarke paled and stifled. ''Does that mean you will make me prisoner, too?''

Lexa tilted her head again. ''I was asking myself the same thing. You must have been gone already when your former companions destroyed one of my villages, so you have committed no crime against my people. And you saved my life today.''

Clarke relaxed, but Lexa was not finished. ''However, as a leader, I cannot allow you to go when you might hold important information. I do not know how many prisoners Anya will capture, if any, nor how knowledgeable they will be. Apparently, you could have become their leader if someone had not tried to murder you.''

''You just admitted that you ordered one of your generals to kill my companions – some of them are my friends. Why should I help you anymore than I already have?'' She retorted.

''Because if you agree to accompany me to Polis – as a guest – you might be reunited with some of your friends. Anya will give an opportunity to your companions to surrender before she storms the camp, and my warriors would not kill an opponent that decides to lay down his weapon. You may plead for them.'' The Commander argued.

She paused and added with a soft smile. ''You said you needed to find a place for winter, anyway.''

Clarke sighed. ''I don't really have a choice, do I? Not when you hold my people's lives in your hands.'' Her eyes flashed. ''But you should remember, Lexa. You can't kill me. That means I don't need to be trained in combat to kill you. Don't give me a reason to.''

''Will you kill me if Anya reports that she killed your friends?'' Lexa asked, impassive.

Clarke clenched her teeth, considering. She answered in a low voice. ''If she really gave them a chance to surrender, and they truly burned a village, then no. I hope for you that your general is good at following orders.''

From the slightly troubled look that appeared on Lexa's face, Clarke guessed that she was not. The Commander rose.

''This is my tent. You will stay here tonight. We will depart for Polis tomorrow.'' She went to the fur and looked over her shoulder just before she exited this part of the tent. ''You should know. People saw what happened. They are calling you the Healing Nymph. Stories of your powers will probably reach Polis before we do.''

Clarke snorted. ''I get the healing part, but Nymph? Where does that come from?'' She shook her head.

''The old world had legends of fair-haired beings that lived in the woods, and were called nymphs. Your appearance is hard not to notice.'' She saw Lexa look her up and down and felt herself blushing. Was the Commander of the Twelve Clans checking her out? Seriously?

''Yeah, I noticed. Rare phenotype and all that.'' She replied as she looked away to hide her embarassment. Nymph? Weren't the fair-haired creatures called fairies in those old tales? Not that it mattered, really.

Lexa looked confused, but shrugged and exited as she commented. ''You use strange words, _Klark kom skaikru_.''


	3. Travel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3. This chapter and the next are still in Clarke's POV, and then we will switch to Lexa for the next 2 or 3.

The next day, Clarke found herself staring dubiously at the horse Lexa offered her. It was magnificent, really. And softer and warmer than she had expected.

 

But it was  _huge_ . And she was expected to climb on top of it.

 

She glanced at the woman next to her. ''You do realize I have never r id de n a horse before?'' She finally asked  in a weak voice as she tried to estimate how painful falling off would be .

 

The Commander blinked. ''Were there no horses in the sky?''

 

Clarke couldn't help it. She knew it might offend her, but the question was so sincere and innocent, she was unable to suppress her laugh, shaking her head in answer. The idea of stables like the ones behind her in the Ark… She couldn't stop.

 

Lexa glared at her. ''How did you travel long distances, then?''  She asked.

 

Memories from the Ark, while not all unhappy, were enough to make her laughter die out. ''We did not.'' She simply replied.

 

Lexa apparently understood that she had no wish to expand on the subject, and simply nodded in acknowledgment. ''I will help you mount, and we will go slow  at first . Simple rule: the horse will always bring you were you look. So do n o t look  to the ground.''

 

And with that, Clarke was on top of a horse for the first time.

 

It was strange, to feel an animal move between your legs as it carried you.  To feel its strength, and  trust it to help you rather than crush you.  Lexa spent the first couple of hours glancing at her and giving her pointers. Don't pull on the reins. Keep your  heel s low. Don't fidget in your saddle. And so on.

 

She  was riding next to Lexa, behind Gustus and in front of the other two guards.  Despite Lexa's advice s , she couldn't stop her gaze from wandering everywhere. Somehow, the world looked slightly different when seen from higher, and as soon as she was confident enough to let go of one hand on the reins, she playfully grasped at the leaves and branches around the path.  She admired the leaf veins and the diverse smells, remembering her Earth skills classes. The real hing were much prettier than Pike's pictures or drawings.

 

The Commander watched her for a while and eventually spoke up.

 

''You act like a child. Were there no trees in the sky either?'' She commented.

 

Clarke turned towards her. ''No. There were a few plants in Farm Station, though. But I only saw them once. ''

 

Lexa seemed disturbed by her reply. ''What was it like, then? In the sky? It sounds very different from here.''

 

The blonde looked at the forest around her.  There was s o much life. Birds chirping, leaves rustling in the wind, the sound of the horses hooves. She thought back on how everything was on the Ark. It had not bothered her then, because it was the only thing she knew, but now, comparing with the ground…

 

''Lifeless.'' She answered with a shrug. ''Cold. Suffocating. Quite literally, actually.'' She added as an afterthought.

 

''Suffocating? What do you mean?'' Her companion asked, obviously catching her slight grimace at the word.

 

Clarke pointed to the sky. ''There is no air up there. We had to create and purify our own.'' She paused, searching for an analogy. ''I saw people making tea in the villages. Have you ever used the same leaves several times?''

 

A  small smile. ''I do not  care for strong tea in the evening, so I usually use the leaves from my morning tea.''

 

She nodded. ''It the same with the air we had up there. We used the same one over and over, but over time it became poorer and poorer. '' She looked around again. ''It was so… overwhelming when we landed. Seeing trees. Breathing pure, fresh, rich air. Feeling a soft soil under our feet. The blue sky. Clouds. And so many colors. All at once, and for the first time.''

 

Lexa frowned. ''I would never have thought that living in the sky would be so…  empty.''

 

Clarke smiled. ''Space is empty. That's why we only had what had been brought to the Ark before the bombs destroyed the old world. ''

 

She watched as the woman turned her gaze to the sky,  searching.  ''What does your home, this Ark, look like?''

 

''You won't be able to see it now. I can point it to you tonight if the sky is clear, if you wish.'' She offered.

 

Lexa seemed surprised. ''You would show me the way to the home of your people? Even though you think I might be an enemy to them?''

 

Clarke  just  smirked.

 

They camped in a clearing that night. One of the guards went away while they prepared the tents, and came back with a deer  slung over his shoulders . Clarke stared at the bow he held.

 

''I really need to learn how to use a thing like that.'' She muttered under her breath, thinking back on her snares. She would have a much easier time making provisions if she did not limit herself to rodents and rabbits.

 

The hunter heard her, and offered her his bow and one arrow, pointing at a distant tree.

 

''Let us see if you can hit that tree, Nymph.'' He proposed without malice.

 

Hesitantly, she took the bow in her right hand, loaded it and pulled back her left arm. The bow itself was heavy, and her arm trembled as she tried to pull the string all the way to her face. A few weeks on the ground and an irregular amount of proteins since landing had not allowed  her  to build much muscle.  Not that she had had any back in the Ark – physical exercise was frowned upon as it was a waste of oxygen.

 

She released the arrow and watched it fall pitifully a couple feet in front of the tree. She snorted at herself.

 

''Guess I should just stick to the snares.'' She  declared as she gave the  b ow back to the hunter.

 

''Not necessarily.'' She heard and turned around. Lexa was watching her, analyzing.

 

She continued. ''Your aim is good, though your stance needs refining. And you lack the strength to shoot far, but that is easily remedied with time and practice.''

 

Lips curled, almost mocking. ''It is strange to see a woman with impressive healing unable to pull that string.''

 

Clarke mock-glowered. ''I have only been here for a few weeks.  And we both know who would win a fight between us.'' She added with a smirk.

 

Lexa considered. ''If my purpose was to kill you, I would most likely fail, yes. But given your current strength, I could easily overpower you. And all abilities, no matter how great, have limits. You already admitted that your body aged.''

 

She tilted her head at the remark. ''You call that a limit?  I think it would be a curse to l i ve forever. '' She gestured at the clearing and motioned at the guards,  ignoring the way Gustus seemed to keep an eye on her. ''The world was basically burned to ashes a hundred years ago. You think that would teach us something. Yet here we are, going at each other's throat with weapons. '' She observed disgustedly.  ''If my abilities forced  me  to live through it all again and again, I would certainly search for a way to kill myself and just make it stop.'' She concluded.

 

'' It is a rather sad vision of our world.'' The other woman commented as she sat down near the fire.

 

Clarke joined her.  ''You don't strike me as an overly cheery person either.''

 

Lexa's brow furrowed. '' Why would I strike you?''

 

''It's a figure of speech. I just meant that you did not seem to be  someone who laughs easily. '' Clarke explained with a soft smile. She wondered if she shouldn't use more second degree. Just because.

 

''Oh. I suppose that's true. I have too many responsibilities as  _Heda_ to run around laughing like a  _goufa_ .''

 

Clarke leaned back, extending her legs. Riding had been hard on her atrophied muscles, but her natural healing had spared her any cramping. Still, it felt good to stretch them.

 

''I never asked: what were those assassins? I mean, obviously as Commander you have enemies, but do you know who sent them? And why? ''

 

''The Coalition is still new.'' Lexa explained. ''Some clans would like to see me fail, and use their armies to subdue the smaller ones.  Gustus and I examined and searched the bodies. There were no clues as to who sent them, but we suspect _Azgeda_.''

 

Clarke frowned. ''That's the northern clan you were afraid I was from, right?''

 

A nod was the only answer.

 

''Do you expect some other attempt on the road to Polis?'' She asked.

 

''I would be a fool to expect my enemies to give up when they nearly succeeded on their last try.'' She simply stated before looking at her. ''Your presence by my side may give them pause, though, Healing Nymph.''

 

She paused,  observing her face before adding . ''Assassins may come for you too.''

 

Clarke stared at her in disbelief. ''Me? Why?'' She turned her head and watched the flames with narrowed eyes. ''Because I saved your life?''

 

That would be just her luck – run away from a murderer in her camp to end up with some bounty on her head less than two weeks later. Life on the ground was definetely not what she had imagined in her cell.

 

''In part, as they might see it as a necessary step to kill me. But mostly because of your powers.''

 

''Wouldn't I be more useful alive?  To... I don't  know, to heal warriors or whatever?''  She argued.

 

''My people believe that we absorb the strength and powers of an enemy when we kill it. I believe you can understand how much of a prize your death would be.''

 

Clarke scoffed. ''Your people will be disappointed. One, I am hard to kill. And two, my abilities don't work that way. You are born with it, or you are not. End of story.''

 

''Why were you? Born with it?'' Lexa asked.  ''I noticed you were left-handed, when you tried the bow. It is said people who favor the ir left hand are either blessed or cursed. Was this your blessing from the  S pirit?''

 

She was surprised by the sudden show of faith –  or perhaps superstition . She hadn't really seen any signs of a religion in the two villages, but then again she could have overlooked them. She hadn't really wondered if they believed in anything. Apparently, they did.

 

''Er… No.  It just runs in the family. My father had it, and my mother does too. Well part of it. Other people did before, too. From what you say, I guess they didn't survive the radiations. Mom said that my gift of healing people was stronger than hers, and she believes it is because I have the whole deal.''

 

Lexa was confused. ''Part of it? The whole deal?''

 

Clarke pulled up her legs. ''I heal myself. It is not conscious, it happens whenever I am hurt or sick. That is one gift. I can heal others, by touching their wounds, or simply their skin if it is a sickness. That is another gift.  But in very ancient times, this was united in a single,  original gift, which then divided itself.  My father could heal himself, and my mother can heal others. I inherited both, so I have the original gift, you could say.''  She explained.

 

''Your father is passed away.'' Lexa said slowly, clearly hoping for an explanation.

 

She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. She remembered her father telling her mother and her about the oxygen problem. His wanting to talk to Jaha about it, and warn the population if Jaha wouldn't listen. The Chancellor refused to tell the people  and threatened to float their entire family. Jake prepared  a video  with his message , gave a copy to Abby for safe-keeping and to use when she felt the time was right. Then he told h is wife to run to Jaha and denounce him.

 

So that both her and her mother would be spared.

 

She couldn't keep herself from trying to fight off the guards when they came, though. And Jaha didn't trust her  to keep quiet – she had been involved in a fair number of questionable explorations and pranks with Wells,  and only been spared the Sky box because she was with the Chancellor's son . So she ended up in solitary. Her mother  had never been allowed to visit her,  until they went to put her inside the dropship.

 

Her mother. She hoped she was okay. That the delinquents managed to send word to the Ark, somehow. That her mother would never need to use her father's recording and be floated for it.

 

Lexa was still looking at her, waiting.

 

''I don't want to talk about it.''

 

''The memory is painful to you. I can see it.'' She paused and turned her gaze to the fire. ''I lost someone special to me too. Her name was Costia. The queen of Azgeda tortured her.  Because she was mine, and she wanted to know my secrets. Then she sent me her head.''  Lexa told her in a voice devoid of emotion.

 

''My teacher always repeated that love is weakness. T hat t o be Commander is to be alone.  O therwise, I open myself to hurt and give my enemies leverage. It took Costia's death for me to finally accept this truth.''  She concluded in the same voice.

 

Clarke shook her head.  ''I am sorry for what happened. But I could never believe that. Hope, and love for my frien d s and my mother is what kep t me going after Bellamy tried to kill me. Love is what kept me from madness over this last year in solitary.''

 

Lexa's voice rose slightly as she argued.  ''You should. When people will realize that they can't kill you, they will use those you care about to destroy you. ''

 

''You are the Commander of the Twelve Clans. What keeps you going, if not love? '' Clarke objected. '' _Azgeda_ hurt you, personally and deeply. But they are part of your Coalition, aren't they? Which means you let them in. Why?''

 

''I did it because it was the best choice for my people. To bring peace.'' She replied firmly, nearly growling.

 

''You did it because you care for your people. It is a form of love. Even now, you are not planning on acting against _Azgeda_ because you have no proof, and you don't want to start a war.''  The blonde declared, refusing to back down.

 

''I will grant you that. But it is not the same kind of love. It is not a selfish one.''  She said with finality.

 

''I spent a lmost a year cut off from everyone I knew. Or from any sort of human contact, really. I know the kind of things loneliness does to a mind. If you truly cared for no one personally, you wouldn't be as s ound of mind as you are. '' She lifted a hand when she saw Lexa about to reply and continued. ''I am not telling you to move on from Costia and find someone else. I am not telling you to start hugging everyone you know. But don't lie to yourself.''

 

She lowered her voice  to a whisper, mindful that the guards were near and might overhear . ''I have known you for barely a day. But I have eyes. If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't  target those two.'' She said, nodding towards the two warriors that were cooking the deer. ''I would kill Gustus. His death would affect you much more.''

 

Lexa's head snapped up and she held her gaze, watching the quiet fury and fear she saw in those green eyes.

 

Clarke softened her voice and smiled. ''People do many things for love. Some are grand. Some are stupid. It is a force. Ignoring it does not absolve you from it. It just makes you less likely to recognize it, and how  it affects you.''

 

''Of course, if you show open care, you paint a target on the person.'' She conceded to the brunette.

 

Sensing that Lexa would not say anything more about the subject, she gazed at the night sky.  She pointed towards a constellation.

 

''Do you see these stars? They make the shape of a sword, with some imagination.''

 

Lexa followed her gaze. ''I do.''

 

''And do you see this small bright star, off to the right of the pommel?''

 

She nodded. ''Why are you showing me stars now, _Klark_?''

 

She shrugged. ''You wanted to see my home. This bright star is the Ark.''

 

She saw the eyebrows rise as Lexa located the star again.

 

Clarke smiled, amused. '' So, a re you planning on invading  us  soon, Commander?''  She joked.

 

The rest of the evening was mostly silent, except when Lexa informed her that they would again share her tent. Her reasons were simple: it was easier to guard one tent instead of two now that both might be assassination targets.  The tent was much smaller than the one from the previous day, obviously designed to be put up and folded quickly.  It was divided in two main areas. Lexa indicated that Clarke would sleep with her in the one that was in the back. The three guards would keep watch and sleep in the first area, near the entrance.

 

Clarke was grateful for the quiet, as it allowed her to think about all that had happened over the last day and a half.  Somehow, she had stumbled upon the most powerful person on this part of Earth, and was now in a position that might allow her to help the delinquents – at least those that had survived until now. But that person was also the one who had ordered her former camp to be attacked, and the blonde was still miffed that this had been the first response of the Commander. The only reason she had not voiced her objections and decided not to pass judgment yet was this story of a burned village. If such a thing had really happened, she could understand the wish to retaliate, even if she would still have wished for some kind of discussions first.

 

Yet, she had to accept that she did not know much of the grounders society. It was becoming glaringly obvious, and would need to be remedied if she hoped to help her friends. Warrior, she was starting to realize, was a status as much as it was a job. And to give the title of Commander to such an important person, as well as the wars the brunette had mentioned… It was clearly some sort of military society. So, perhaps it was not so surprising that retaliation was the first option that had come to mind. Negociations might be reserved for terms of surrender, after a show of strength.

 

And if she ignored the Commander, she had to admit that she appreciated Lexa. She was smart, clearly devoted to those she cared about – no matter how much she would deny it – and open-minded. She had accepted that Clarke refused to share parts of her past for now, and strived to understand her – to her – strange reactions and culture.

 

Moreover, she was intrigued by the interaction s of Lexa and the Commander.  Whenever the other woman had asked her a question today, it had been out of Lexa's curiosity, but she could see an analytical gleam in her eyes that reminded her that the Commander would not miss a single piece of information. Yet, when she let it slip that her father had died,  the Commander had sacrificed her search of information to spare  Clarke's feelings.

 

She supposed that she would not see as much of Lexa if they did not have several days until they reached Polis, and answers and decisions became necessary. Part of her feared the change that might occur when they would reach the capitol.

 

The Commander, from what little she had seen of her, was fair but ruthless.

 

Unable to fall asleep, she turned to watch the other woman lying on a cot of furs a few feet away.  Soft features were relaxed in sleep, and brown braided hair hid part of her face.  She seemed young, younger than she had first guessed, and almost fragile. Glancing at the dagger she could see peeking from under the pillow, Clarke reminded herself that this woman had fought off two assassins with a poisoned wound on her arm.

 

She also recalled the black blood she had seen oozing from the wound, and that she had washed of her hands after her first discussion with the brunette. She had not had the opportunity to ask her about it, but the lack of surprise from others – Gustus, the villagers, or anyone else – she supposed it was the consequence of some mutation. Her scientific mind was curious of what kind of change had brought about this dark color, and she wished she could put a drop of the strange blood under a microscope. But as far as she knew, this dark blood could now be quite common. Hell, perhaps the Commander had guessed that she was from the sky because she had remembered seeing Clarke's red blood when she was stabbed.

 

She thought of her friends and the other delinquents. Had the general, Anya, attacked already? Were her friends dead, or terrified as they were dragged to Polis, while she enjoyed the protection and comfort provided by the Commander?

 

Suddenly, the furs were not as comfortable.

 

Quietly, as she had no wish to awaken the other woman, she eased herself out of the furs that served as both mattress and blanket until she lying on the ground. She silently reached for her bag and took out her cloak and any hard item – her bowl, comb, knives and old wristband – so that it only contained the furs of the animals she had hunted or traded. She punched it a couple of times to shape it in a pillow and wrapped herself in the cloak.

 

She could not refuse the tent, as it would be unpractical for the escort – she didn't really need protection, but she had a feeling the Commander would insist on her being guarded as well. She was officially a guest, but she was unsure of whether the warrior would really let her walk away if she decided to leave.

 

She could, and would, however refuse further comforts from the Commander who might be the cause of the death of her friend, mother and everyone else on the Ark. No matter how kind Lexa could be.

 

It was perhaps stupid, but it appeased her mind enough for her to fall asleep.

 

 


	4. Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter in Clarke's POV for a short while. The next few will be from Lexa's.  
> Enjoy!

The next day, Lexa did not attempt to start a conversation with her, but the silence was not awkward. Observing her, Clarke determined that the other woman was deep in her thoughts, either because of their previous conversation s or because she was considering what she would do in Polis.

 

The blonde was content to speak with the other warriors, though Gustus was not much of a talker. She learned a bit more about the different clans, the capitol and improved her knowledge of Trigedasleng. When they stopped for the midday meal, the guards let her try the bow again, with similar results.  She shrugged, accept ing their advices and gentle mocking with a smile.

 

Lexa informed her that they  would be hosted in a village  for the night,  and that the chief of the village usually provided her with a house for the duration of her stay.  They would not need the tent tonight.

 

Having witnessed the Commander's arrival in the previous village, Clarke wasn't surprised by the crowd that had formed  to greet them. She just hoped that it would not end in another assassination attempt.  Judging by how tense all the guards were – both the escort and the local warriors –  and the way Gustus was scanning the crowd, she was not the only one. Lexa, however, seemed strangely relaxed. She wondered if it was because the brunette was confident that  her guards would protect her, that  Clarke could and would heal her, or if it was simply a facade for her people.

 

She was surprised, however,  when the people greeting them appeared as interested in her as they were in their famous Commander.  The local warriors even had to push back a couple people who tried to reach  out and touch her while addressing her in Trigedasleng. They spoke too fast for her own limited knowledge of the language, so she turned towards Lexa with a confused look.

 

She saw the woman smile in amusement.

 

''I told you tales of your deeds had started to spread. They are curious about the Healing Nymph, and hope that you will bestow your blessings upon them and their sick.''

 

Her jaw dropped. Of course, the healers like her had been the object of near worship during antique times, but she had never expected this to happen to her. She had been raised believing that people discovering her abilities would lead to distrust, jealousy and most likely an untimely and agonizing death. Then, Lexa's very practical approach of her and her healing – despite this brief allusion to a Spirit – had led her to think, foolishly apparently, that most grounders would have the same approach. That they would be interested in what they could gain from her, without any reference to some religious practices or beliefs.

 

But now, people – including healthy ones – were begging for her blessing, as if her words could offer them more protection than the trained warriors protecting their village.

 

The Commander was taking in the scene quietly, and Clarke suddenly wondered if this show of worship might backfire on her. If her people started to look up to Clarke more than they did to  _Heda_ , would she resent her? Follow her beliefs and try to kill Clarke in an attempt to steal her powers?

 

She shook her head. So far, the Commander did not know how to kill her, and she had displayed no intention to do so. Killing her, though possible, would necessitate planning and time, so hopefully Clarke would see it coming – it would probably take her several attempts to determine what might do the trick.

 

Glancing back at the crowd, she asked Lexa to translate for her.

 

''Could you tell them that, in exchange of their hospitality tonight, I will heal the sick and wounded that are brought to me? But I am not some  sort of  spirit that goes around blessing people. It wouldn't do them any good, anyway.'' She asked, trusting Lexa to formulate her offer in a way more respectful of their beliefs.

 

Though she had no wish to offend the grounders – she had no reason to resent those villagers – she refused to be elevated as some sort of mythical creature or goddess or prophet or whatever. She had a feeling, though, that Lexa would do nothing to deny these assumptions. Clarke had spent enough time around the Council in the Ark to know that you did not control a people solely by enforcing the rules. Giving them things to believe in or a clear objective was often more efficient than terror.

 

As long as she remained by the Commander's side, it was in  Lexa's best interest to have her people assume that she had been offered some kind of magical protection.  And by having the Commander act as her intermediary between herself and the villagers, she had probably reinforced the impression that she was first and foremost dedicated to Lexa,  she realized .  It had not been her intent.

 

Lexa translated her words with a satisfied mien, and then conversed some more with the warriors and a few people in the crowd, before turning back to Clarke.

 

''Those people wish to offer you gifts, to thank you for y our generosity. The warriors will prepare a house that you may use as a healing hut. Everything shall be ready in about half a candle-mark.''

 

Clarke shook her head. ''Their hospitality is enough. I don't need anything more at the moment, I will not have them impoverishing themselves for me.''

 

Lexa raised one eyebrow. ''You are my guest. You will receive their hospitality even if you chose not to heal anyone.''

 

''I would still feel better if I wasn't just one idle mouth to feed. Healing them will only cost me energy, and I need nothing more than food and sleep to recover it afterward.' '

 

She paused. ''I am not sure how many people I will be able to heal before the strain becomes too much, so I would like to start with the children. Then those that are in pain or suffer from something your healers cannot cure. Whatever can be taken care of by your people's usual medicine should not take precedence.''

 

The green-eyed woman nodded in acknowledgment and gave more orders to the warriors.

 

''I am curious to see your healing abilities. I was a little distracted last time. Would you mind if I stayed by your side? Most people do not speak gonasleng, I can translate their requests and your questions.''

 

Clarke knew that there was some ulterior motive. Probably an effort to gauge exactly what she was  capable of , or  perhaps  simply to stay close to her so that her presence would always be associated to the Commander 's .  Still, she had no  valid reason to refuse, so she accepted with a sharp nod.

 

Soon, she found herself sitting on a chair beside a bed, with Lexa and the village healer hovering behind her. By the herbs she could see drying and the bocals carefully labeled and stored on the shelves, she guessed that she was in the healer's  own  hut.

 

The healer himself did not look extremely happy to house this impromptu gathering, and Clarke gave him an apologetic look. The man had probably spent years studying herbs, wounds and diseases, and she knew that this was not a savage, ignorant society. Though many knowledge from the old world had been lost, things such as the fact that some substance could be used to treat some symptoms would have been transmitted orally at least from master to apprentice.

 

This was not Antiquity, when diseases were seen as the caprice of gods. Some knowledge of pathogens and pharmacopeia had subsisted, and the healer was a man of science – however incomplete. Most of the people probably did not share his own understanding of how a human body worked and recovered, and would therefore see little difference between his remedies and her healing touch, except for the efficiency and universality of one over the other.

 

This man, more than Lexa, would not believe in her powers until he saw them at work. Which was probably the main reason he had chosen to stay.

 

The first family arrived, bringing her a young child of ten years at most, who had opened his leg on an old piece of metal in the forest while playing a few days ago. The wound had been bandaged by the healer, they reported to her as Lexa translated, but it refused to close, pus oozing from it and the skin darkening. This morning, the healer had advised to cut off the leg before it could spread further. But when they heard of her arrival scheduled tonight, they decide to take the chance and wait.

 

As they talked, Clarke and the healer  laid the boy on the bed and removed the dressing. Just from the smell, Clarke knew what she was dealing with.

 

Gangrene.

 

She could do much, but she could not go against natural order either, she explained. Death is death, and part of the leg was already dead.

 

However, she could salvage  what  was simply dying. The boy would keep his life and his leg, but some of the muscles would remain damaged. He might have a limp for the rest of his life, but since he was so young, there was hope that the other muscles would compensate as he grew.

 

Once Lexa confirmed her that the parents had understood what she said, she applied her hands on the wound and watched as the pus oozed out, the dark, dead tissue fell and then as a little muscle grew back, then covered by new, pink skin that eventually took the same color as the rest. The boy hissed and moaned in pain at first, prompting Clarke to mumble an apology, but soon sighed in relief and seemed to fall asleep.

 

Clarke sat back, satisfied. She reassured the parents that their son was saved, and that he should exercise regularly to improve his chances of full recovery. They nodded eagerly, thanked her many times and tried to offer her some old jewels or furs. Clarke refused adamantly but gently, repeating again and again that the hospitality of the village in general was enough.

 

They eventually left to let the next patient in. Before she could turn to him, the healer went to stand in front of her and bowed deeply.

 

''Healing Nymph, I apologize for doubting you. If you wish for me to do anything to apologize, I will.'' He exclaimed.

 

Clarke waved away the apology. ''No need to apologize. Though I have this ability, I have also spent many years studying the art of healing, and I would not waste these powers on a wound that I could simply stitch. I have not spent enough time to learn of all these herbs properties, but I hope to remedy that lack of knowledge soon.'' She explained with a wave in the direction of the shelves.

 

The man put his fist over his heart as he straightened. ''If you wish, Nymph, I can give you samples of all my herbs with a brief summary of their properties and how to prepare them.''

 

She smiled brightly. ''That would be great, actually. Will you have time tonight?'' She asked, glancing at the long line that were waiting to benefit from her healing.

 

Lexa intervened. ''Perhaps you could help sort those who will recover easily enough under your care, and encourage them to go home. If the Healing Nymph is not too tired b y the time she has finished tending to the others, we may call them back.''

 

The healer nodded, and Lexa continued. ''We are not far from Polis now. If we rise early tomorrow, you will have enough time to show the herbs to the Nymph before we depart, without delaying us.''

 

The man approved, promising to prepare as much as he could so that they would not be delayed, and then went off to examine and talk to the waiting people.

 

Clarke noted that Lexa had taken care of referring to her solely with the title that her people had invented for her, rather than her own name. Clearly, she wanted the legend to perdure. She wondered what would happen in Polis, when they might become enemies. Lexa seemed to gamble on Clarke's loyalty to her.

 

Hopefully, this meant that she was confident her general would have captured more than she would have killed, and that Clarke could hope to see some of her friends again soon.

 

And if worst came to worse, she would probably be welcomed in any village. The only question would be whether Lexa would accept to let her go or not.

 

The rest of the evening was spent tending to complicated injuries, long and painful diseases, and then minor fevers. Clarke only treated the fevers of elders, children or pregnant women. She felt that it was better if most of the community developed an immunity to the common cold, but knew how harmful long fevers could be to young and old bodies, and refused to leave the village fearing that someone's condition might worsen.

 

She could feel Lexa's gaze following all her movements. She had expected the Commander to leave after a while and provide her with a warrior as a translator – surely she had some sort of duty or meeting to attend with the village chief, whoever that was – but she stayed. Clarke had no idea what she hoped to find. Her own actions were only to assess the state of the patient – in the same way any healer would – and then put her hands on the wounded or sick flesh for a few moments.

 

Yes, she got that it was incredible and strange, but it had to get boring to watch after a while, right?

 

Once the last patient left, she rose from her chair shakily. She had exerted a lot of energy. On the Ark, she could only use her powers sparsely or she would betray her secret.  She knew that healing others, contrary to healing herself, fatigued her. But she had never worked herself into exhaustion before.

 

She stumbled a couple of steps before Lexa grabbed her arm and helped her navigate all the way from the healer's hut to the house that the village chief had prepared for Heda and her companions.

 

Her guide pointed to one bed.

 

''Sit. I will  ask  for our food to be brought  here. People feasted while you were working, and most of them have already returned to their homes.  It is late. I will just go and salute those that are still  enjoying the bonfire.''

 

Clarke mumbled her thanks and half-walked half-fell onto the bed, enjoying the soft furs that greeted her cheek.

 

She was shaken awake a few minutes later and glared at the Commander. She was  _tired_ , from healing  _her_ people. Wasn't she entitled to some decent sleep?

 

Lexa almost smirked  at her poor attempt to appear threatening . ''You said you would need to eat to recover, and the villagers are going to be insulted if you refuse the food they prepared you as you refused all their other gifts. ''

 

The blonde sighed and buried her nose into the pillow. The food could wait for five more minutes.

 

The brunette shook her again, and Clarke shot her a death glare. The infuriating woman was still smirking at her.

 

''The meat is warm.'' She paused, her eyes filled with mirth. ''And I must inform you that, even knowing your astonishing abilities, your current state makes the idea of you being a threat extremely difficult to believe.  I have seen cubs who looked more dangerous. ''  She mocked.

 

Clarke groaned and conceded, slowly rolling on her side and sitting up. Focusing her gaze on the large platter of food  at the foot of the bed , she felt her mouth water and realized how ravenous she was.

 

She hesitated, glancing at Lexa. Was the plate for both of them? She did not want to insult by hogging all the food, but she was certain she could empty the platter by herself – she desperately wanted to.

 

The woman seemed to understand the silent question. ''I ate by the bonfire wh ile the people prepared your meal. They insisted on offering you large portions of everything. There were also several jewels and trinkets – I refused them for you, since you refused all the others.''

 

''Thank you for that.'' Clarke rasped as she started on her food.

 

The Commander grabbed a chair and sat across from her, their respective position s not unlike those of their first discussion.

 

''You saved many of my people today.'' She commented.

 

Clarke shook her head. ''There were few life-threatening conditions.  I only hastened the recovery of most, and removed the old pains of a few.'' She corrected.

 

''You did what none of my healers could have done for these people.  A sick hunter cannot provide for his family. A craftsman with a constant pain in the arm from an old injury cannot work as efficiently.'' Lexa objected. ''Their survival may not have always been a cause for concern, but their current life are now less complicated. On their behalf, I thank you.''

 

''You're welcome.''

 

The green eyes staring at her narrowed in confusion. ''Why do you suddenly feel the need to welcome me? I have been sitting here for some time already.''

 

''It is what one replies to acknowledge thanks.'' Clarke explained laconically, too tired to be amused.

 

''My people say  _pro_ .''

 

Clarke just reached for another strip of meat and rolled it in the sauce.  She had never eaten anything so rich and tasty. She could get used to that kind of treatment, if she decided to establish herself as the local Healing Nymph she guessed.

 

But she still felt a responsibility to the other delinquents.

 

And her mother was still in the Ark, orbiting the Earth and watching the oxygen levels lower slowly, suffocating children insidiously. Even before she was imprisoned in solitary, her mother and her had diagnosed medical problems in children that were growing without enough oxygen.

 

And there was nothing they could do about it.  Not even with their powers.

 

The Commander was still examining her from her chair, but Clarke wasn't feeling very talkative. One, she was exhausted. Two, she still had mixed feelings about the other woman. And three, if she wanted to know something, she could just ask. They still had their deal.

 

''You could have accumulated a small fortune today. You own next to nothing.'' She said, jutting her chin towards Clarke's bag. ''Yet you refused them all. Why? ''

 

Clarke munched on her apple and swallowed as she shrugged.  Her parents had told her the tale s of those like them from the old times, and how they had only gone to the temple s because that was w h ere they could heal people. For some strange reason, despite all the awe they could and had inspired, not even  a single one of them had ever been tempted to abuse this power. Somehow, the idea of being seen as an object of cult made her stomach churn with disgust.

 

It was not rational. She was a poor hunter, she owned very little, she had no provisions for winter if she ultimately decided to refuse Lexa's hospitality. The smart move would have been to accept at least some of the gifts, to keep something small but valuable to trade as a security. Hell, Lexa had been nearly killed three days ago. She could still die, and all of Clarke's current plans and hopes would die with her.

 

She knew her decisive refusal could be interpreted as a lack of foresight. But no matter what, she couldn't bring herself to encourage any sort of cult. She couldn't prevent people from believing that she was a Nymph, but she would do whatever she could to ensure this never escalated into a worship.  And if it  somehow did, she would never behave as someone that ought to be worshipped.

 

She was a healer. Nothing more.

 

Lexa had grown impatient while she kept munching her apple.

 

''Is this another question you refuse to answer?'' She drawled.

 

Clarke sighed as she put down the core on the side of the plate and grabbed a handful of caramelized nuts.

 

''I refused them because I did not want them. I have no ulterior motive in this.  It may be difficult to understand for a politician 's mind, but it is true.''

 

The brunette's brow creased,  uncertain .  ''Did you just insult me?''

 

''No. I just established that we have different mindsets, and that what seems obvious to one might always appear strange to the other.''  Clarke stated in an indifferent voice.

 

Truth was, Clarke had a rather political mind as well, growing up with a mother on the Council and a father often consulted on important matters. So she understood why the Commander was suspicious of her intentions – humans rarely refused a gift unless they expected to gain something more through that refusal. But her power seemed to come with an innate altruism that made the idea of  asking for anything in return of her healing feel almost like… well, a sacrilege.

 

Ironic, really, when she refused the idea of cult to be associated with her abilities.

 

Lexa had obviously been raised to question everyone's motive, to think through the consequences of every actions.  Which was why Clarke knew she wouldn't understand her reasons. Because they were not the result of any reasoning. They just were.

 

And judging by the concentrated and frustrated face, Lexa was trying very hard to figure out her logic and motives.

 

Clarke sighed again, glancing down at the empty plate. Her stomach was delightfully full now.

 

''I promised you, Lexa, that I would say the truth and only the truth when I answered your questions. Let it go. ''

 

She suppressed a smile at the low huff that escaped the woman's lips. She was pretty sure the Commander had not intended for her to hear that  unspoken surrender .

 

''Will you explain to me why healing others took so much out of you, when you healed from a fatal wound instantly without breaking a sweat?''  She asked again after a moment of silence.

 

Clarke set the plate on the floor – she just did not have the heart to abandon the comfortable furs to carry it all the way to the table – and replied.

 

''When I heal, it is not conscious, and for some reason it costs me nothing. I don't know where the energy for that comes from, really. When I heal others, it is a conscious choice and I bring at least part of the energy required.  That's just the way it is.''

 

''It is a frustrating answer.''

 

Clarke shrugged and l ai d back on the bed, tugging a large fur from under her to serve as blanket.

 

''Are you not curious about your own abilities?'' Lexa insisted.

 

The blonde sent her a long suffering look.

 

''My parents taught me all th at was known about the gift. If  _millenias_ of wondering and  _generations_ of searching have not found the answer, I will not waste my time trying to figure it out. I have enough to worry about already.'' She finished pointedly.

 

At least Lexa appeared slightly apologetic at that last remark. Given what had happened to her lover, she was bound to have some sympathy for Clarke's worry about her friends and former companions.

 

With a yawn, Clarke pulled the fur tightly around her body and closed her eyes, ending their conversation.


	5. A Commander's reflections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5, and the first from Lexa's perspective. The next one will be as well. You will get to learn more about grounder culture from now on, as we are getting closer to Polis.  
> Again, I never read the books, and only saw the show up to the end of season three. So, really, most of the grounder culture I present in this fic is my imagination/interpretation. Some things may be different from the show, because it suits what I want to do with the story. I will only promise you to keep this culture as coherent as I can. If something is unclear or contradictory, don't hesitate to comment and I'll explain/edit if need be - unless it is a spoiler, of course.  
> With that said: Enjoy!

Lexa stayed in the chair a while longer, watching as the blonde healer fell asleep, the heavy fur rising and falling with her chest.

 

This Sky girl was confusing.

 

First, there was the obvious: her healing abilities. Lexa had never been more shocked than when she saw the girl pull the knife out of her own chest and witnessed the wound sealing itself almost instantly.  And then the blonde young woman had shocked her again by grabbing her wound  and she had felt a tingling sensation replace the burning of the poison.

 

She had no idea who this blonde mystery was, she had never heard of someone like her before – and with her golden hair and blue eyes, she couldn't have been simply overlooked.  So she ordered Gustus to carry her inside her tent and waited until she woke up, which happened quickly.

 

It had been surprising, and somewhat amusing, to meet someone who had absolutely no idea of who  _Heda_ was. And even once she informed her, Clarke had not shifted her behavior to one of deference. Instead, she had pointed out that Lexa owed her life and couldn't harm her anyway to extort a deal that allowed her to keep whatever secret s she wished.

 

And that was the second thing that confused her about her guest. Her secrets.  Lexa had been able to deduce that she was part of those young people who fell from the sky a few weeks ago. But she had been forced to separate from them when  their leader – who did not sound extremely competent – attempted to kill her, seeing her as a threat to his leadership.  Yet, the only reason Clarke was sleeping in this bed was because she hoped to speak for her people.

 

Also, she remained tight-lipped about her past. She had the mind of a leader though she was estranged from her people, and she was smart. Her behavior bordered on insolence when she debated with Lexa but, try as she might, she had been unable to have the last word with her so far.

 

Lexa had been groomed to be  _Heda_ since she was a child. Even with talent, she knew a mind could not develop such skills without nurturing and  practice . Clarke was a healer, but she was also much more than that. Who had groomed her, and why? What exactly was her authority amongst her people?

 

There were some snippets of her past that had slipped out and that Lexa tried to fit in her understanding of the girl. Her mother was alive, and could heal others. Her father, despite being able to heal himself, was dead. And since that memory was painful to Clarke, it was most likely a violent, unexpected death.

 

What had been able to kill the man? Not that she planned to kill Clarke, but Lexa was starting to grow desperate for some sort of leverage with the girl. Once they reached Polis, Anya would probably be already waiting with the prisoners. Clarke had claimed that she would be understanding  if some of her friends had been killed in the attack, to some extent. But Lexa knew how much easier it was to promise such things than to uphold your vow in the face of loss and suffering.

 

Tales of the Healing Nymph sent by the Spirit to protect  _Heda_ were spreading, and already beyond her control. It suited her, if her enemies believed that she had been granted a supernatural protection.

 

But if Clarke refused to stay by her side once they learned the results of the attack? If this mystical protector suddenly abandoned her? Would her people lose their faith in _Heda_?

 

Would her Coalition survive?

 

Lexa went through the motions of preparing herself for sleep, deep in thought.

 

Whatever happened, she couldn't allow Clarke to leave. Her sudden  appearance to save her life had to be a sign from the Spirit. She just hoped that Anya had managed to get many prisoners, and  had  only  had to kill a few of Clarke's former companions.  From the blonde's try at the bow, she doubted that the sky  _goufas_ were competent warriors.

 

She'd rather not have to blackmail the healer in staying. She wanted to earn her trust, but the ground for that was shaky at best.

 

Another disturbing remark about Clarke was her allusions to a long time she had spent alone. Was it a ritual for her people? She knew some of the southern clans had a survival ritual were the young adult was on his own for some period of time.  It was a way to prove that they no longer needed their parents protection, and could provide for their own family. But what Clarke had endured had sounded almost like a… punishment.

 

And  t hen , there was the way the girl seemed to consider her own mystical abilities. She had refused the very idea of it being a gift from the Spirit, and proceeded to explain it was  merely part of her inheritance. But why would she, the joining of two apparently ancient powers, be born and sent to Earth if not by the will of the Spirit?

 

Lexa had spent half of her conversations while Clarke was healing convincing the villagers that the Spirit was not offended by what they offered the Healing Nymph. That she would not stop healing them because they could not figure out  _what_ the Nymph he sent them wanted.

 

And after talking to Clarke, it seemed that the blonde truly wanted  _nothing_ .

 

But it had to be wrong. No one could exhaust oneself so much and ask for absolutely nothing in return.

 

Oh, she had claimed that her payment was the village's hospitality, but Lexa knew that was not entirely true. Clarke knew she would be hosted no matter what. She was _Heda's_ guest.

 

And she didn't wa n t to be.

 

It had been easy to realize that, when she awoke in the tent to find Clarke lying on the damp ground, wrapped in her cloak, besides the bed of furs she had intended for her.  The blonde refused to be in her debt in any way.

 

Which did not bode well for when they reached Polis. Lexa had no doubt her blonde healer would walk away if displeased with Anya's – and indirectly Lexa's – actions.

 

Not for the first time since she had heard of the  _Skaikru_ falling  in the  _Trikru_ lands , Lexa wondered if she had not made the wrong decisions.  Should she ha ve ordered Anya to approach them instead of merely observing and gathering information?  Should she ha ve gone herself to investigate?

 

But after they burned a village, how could she  _not_ retaliate?  It was her duty to defend her people. No matter the cost.

 

She just hoped that those choices would not backfire on her because of Clarke or Anya. She could already tell that the two blondes had stubborness in common.

 

With a sigh, she checked that Gustus and the rest of her escort w ere taking the full night to rest, and growled when she found her personal guard sitting on her doorstep. Gustus was worried about Clarke's intentions and had been watching the girl closely since Lexa invited her to Polis. He had argued several times against the both of them sharing a tent or house.

 

She was not surprised to find out that he planned to spend his whole night guarding her from the blonde, but she trusted Clarke. If only because the girl seemed to respect life too much to take one simply for revenge. And she had no cause to seek revenge anyway.

 

None for now, at least.

 

Lexa used her Commander voice to order Gustus to leave and enjoy the bed provided by the village chief – it was only next door. He relented after begging her to be cautious several times.

 

Satisfied that her closest guard would get some more than deserved rest, she checked on Clarke. The girl was literally passed out from exhaustion. The healing had really taken a lot out of her, but she had hidden it so well that Lexa had not suspected anything until she saw the girl sway after her last patient left.

 

Idly, she wondered if the girl could be so selfless that she would heal others to death.

 

She traced the blonde's arm with her fingers. She was thin. Abnormally so. She had only noticed it when she saw her fail to hit the tree with her guard's bow.

 

A child could have pulled that string. Clarke had shaken from the toll it took on her weak muscles.  Were all sky people so thin and weak?  Or was it because she used all her energy in healing others?

 

No, Lexa would have heard of it if she had healed people from the  _Trikru_ before. And this boy leader would have known  his assassination attempt would fail if he had known of Clarke's powers, so surely her own people were ignorant of exactly what they had lost when the blonde was forced to run away from her camp.

 

With a huff of frustration, Lexa walked to her own bed. Only Clarke had the answers she needed, and she would just have to wait until the blonde felt like sharing.

 

She laid on her side, eyes trained on the younger woman.

 

In sleep, her features were less guarded. She wondered how old she was – younger than her by at least a couple of years she estimated. Her eyes wandered to the golden hair. Though the dirt from the road dimmed its color, Lexa was fascinated by it. Fair-haired people were uncommon, and most came from the Ice Nation. Aden was one of the rare exception s , and she knew the other  _Natblidas_ regularly teased him about it.  Clarke's eyes, closed at the moment, were equally fascinating with their rare shade of clear, but not transparent, blue.

 

Really, it was like her whole appearance screamed her origin s . Sky blue eyes and sunny hair. Lexa was almost ashamed at how long it had taken her to figure it out with such  blatant hints.

 

At some time in her admiration of the young woman's features, she fell asleep.

 

She awoke slightly before dawn. She wished she could have slept longer, but knew her body would never allow her to sleep past sunrise in an unknown bed. Cautiousness had long been ingrained in her body.

 

Resigned, she decided to use the time to bathe instead. She rose silently – Clarke was still asleep –  and found the old woman that the chief had entrusted her comfort with to ask for hot water and a wooden bath.

 

The old woman soon returned with a couple of villagers to help carry everything, and Lexa was soon enjoying the warmth of a bath behind the curtained part of the room.

 

Unfortunately, she did not have the time to soak like she wished to. She had claimed that they could meet the village healer in the morning for Clarke's benefit, but she could only delay their departure so much.

 

Scrubbing  off the dirt of the last few days from her skin, she whispered to the old woman to prepare more water for the Healing Nymph.  It would take them another couple of days before they reached Polis, and she was honestly unsure of when the blonde had last had the opportunity to bath.

 

Clarke was still asleep by the time Lexa was dressed, which surprised and worried her. She had seemed to be a light sleeper when they camped. Was she more exhausted than she had thought?

 

She hesitated. Should she let her sleep longer, and tell the healer that Clarke would come back some other time? But she had no idea when she would have time to leave Polis, and until she  had some insurance she could not let Clarke wander too far from her sight. Snow  c ould arrive  in a few weeks , and the roads would not be as easy and safe as they were now.

 

Decided, she approached the blonde and shook her gently. She was rewarded with a groan and bleary  blue  eyes glaring at her.

 

Undeterred, she shook her some more to ensure she would not immediately fall back asleep.

 

''There is hot water for you to wash behind the curtain. I will make sure the healer is expecting us in half  a  candle-mark. ''

 

She did not wait to see if Clarke complied, and went out in search of breakfast. Though she was used to seeing naked bodies from her time as a  _Natblida_ and  _Seken_ when they all bathed together, she feared the effect that Clarke's body might have on her.  She had spent too much time studying her face last night for her not to recognize the physical attraction. It was better to extinguish that passion while it was barely a flame than to add wood to the fire.

 

She returned to the house a few minutes later with a plate of food for her healer. The blonde was sitting on her bed with a happy smile, clean. Her hair was still wet, and Lexa noticed with a frown that she had not used the clothes she had set aside for her, but simply put her own back on.

 

''What is the point of cleaning if you choose to wear dirty garments?'' She asked, trying to keep her exasperation out of her voice.

 

Clarke shrugged. ''Those are my spares, they are almost clean, I rinsed them in a stream the day before I met you.''

 

Lexa handed her the plate of food with a shake of her head. There was no point in arguing with the woman on such a trivial matter, but she made a note to offer her clothes in Polis if all went well – or strongly hint at her that she should have more than one spare, and wash them more frequently and thoroughly at least.

 

''Eat quickly.  Asbrem, the healer, is preparing everything for your lesson but we will not have much time if we are to reach Polis before tomorrow night. The days are getting shorter.'' She indicated.

 

With a nod, the blonde took the plate and started eating with gusto, though Lexa was reassured that she did not seem as famished as the previous night.

 

Soon, Lexa was sat in the same chair as the previous evening, listening distantly as Asbrem lined up small pouches filled with dried herbs and labeled with the glyphs that most healers used. After that, he produced a handful of drawings to show Clarke what the grown and blooming plants looked like in case she ever needed to forage them herself.

 

''You may keep these drawings, Nymph.'' He offered. ''My cousin is sending his son to apprentice with me after the snow melts. I made those for him, but I will have time to make them again before he arrives.''

 

Clarke immediately argued, trying to hand the papers back. When the healer steadfastly refused, she applied to Lexa.

 

''Will I be able to find papers and these charcoal sticks in Polis?'' She asked, pointing to the pens that rested on the healer's table.

 

Lexa confirmed that she would – Polis was the capitol, of course she would find materials like this! – and listened to the rest of the debate.

 

Eventually, Clarke agreed to keep the drawings but declared that she would make the copies herself and send them back to the healer before his apprentice arrived. She insisted that the exercise of drawing the plants would help her memorize quicker, and Asbrem relented.

 

He then launched into a detailed explanation of which parts of each plant had interesting properties, how to prepare them and so on. Before he could finish on the first plant, Clarke begged to borrow one of the pen and started adding to her papers.

 

Lexa leaned in closer, wondering why the blonde would ruin the important drawings, until she noticed the straight lines of letters. She had seen the same letters in books from the old world, but she could only recognize a few of the words Clarke was writing down.

 

Writing. As if it was an ordinary thing to do. Only Flame Keepers, Nightbloods, Clans chiefs and Generals knew how to read and write. Trigedasleng had no written form, and most healers and craftsmen designed their own glyphs when they needed to label things.

 

Yet, Clarke was casually taking notes about what the healer was saying. Asbrem had only had a brief moment of surprise before continuing his lesson, obviously accepting her unusual skill as a sign of her rank.

 

It was one of Lexa's regret, that many of her people could not read. It meant messages could only been transmitted orally, with the risk of it being transformed or forgotten. Only important messages were written, orders from Heda to her generals, for examples.

 

And watching Clarke dutifully writing Asbrem's teachings, Lexa had to consider the educational potential. Her mind wandered to the books from the old world that were stored in the Tower's library. Titus and his predecessors were slowly reading them, attempting to decipher the contents and importance of each one.  But the meaning of many words had been lost, and it was sometimes hard to know if a book spoke of truth or myth.

 

And it was a slow going process, as  teaching the Nightbloods and advising the Commander remained his first duty.  She knew Titus had only worked his way through a couple of books since her own Ascension.

 

Perhaps Clarke could help? With the ease she had in writing and the way some of her sentences twisted usual words in a different meaning – when she did not simply use an unknown word – she clearly had a much better understanding of gonasleng.

 

Most of the villagers had already risen by the time Asbrem was finished. Clarke had asked a few questions throughout his speech, and from the gleam in the man's eyes, Lexa guessed that the blonde had proven herself an intelligent student.

 

Soon after the blonde had thanked her teacher, they were back on their horses, and departed quickly. Clarke was much more steady on her horse than when they first started two days ago, and Lexa decided to maintain a faster pace, trotting most of the time and galloping when the road permitted it, to make up for the time spent with Asbrem. She had not expected the lesson to last for so long, but had not had the heart to interrupt  it when both participants had been so enthralled by it .

 

The pace meant that there was very little conversation as they traveled,  but Lexa noted that Clarke seemed to enjoy the new speed. She berated herself for how often her eyes wandered to study the way her golden mane floated behind her every time they pushed the horses in a canter.

 

All in all, they reached the place where Lexa intended to camp shortly before dark. Gustus and one of the warrior prepared the tents while Clarke gathered firewood and the last guard went hunting. Lexa tended to the horses, as she often did during traveling. Grooming them allowed her time away from her usual, heavy duties.

 

It was a quiet evening. Her warriors were talking together, impatient to reunite with their families in Polis on the morrow. Gustus kept watch – which meant his gaze alternated between the forest and Clarke – and the blonde was studying her drawings and notes.  Lexa took out her dagger and twirled it between her fingers. She had already sharpened it a few days ago, but she liked feeling its weight in her hands. Titus used to admonish her for having nervous hands – she needed to grasp something or they were constantly moving. She had taken to holding them behind her back, or play with a dagger – at least the habit then appeared formal or intimidating rather than nervous.

 

Lexa itched to ask  the blonde  about reading and writing in the sky, but the concentrated mien of the young woman convinced her to wait.  Instead, she gazed at the night sky and searched for the star Clarke had pointed to before.

 

It was strange, really, the idea that the girl next to her came from a star.

 

A stray shooting star appeared a few minutes later and Lexa smiled, remembering the delightful spectacle from a bout a week ago. Hundreds of shooting stars had illuminated the sky.

 

Wondering what insight Clarke could bring her on this subject, she turned to the blonde, but the words died in her throat when she saw the pained look on her face.

 

Her face was turned to the sky as well, but she clearly did not share Lexa's joy at the sight of the shooting star. Instead, she heard her whisper in a soft, sad voice.

 

''In peace, may you leave this shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again.''

 

Lexa adverted her gaze, sensing that she was witnessing a private moment. Sky people must have different belief s about those stars, to elicit such a reaction and… prayer? It sounded like words one might say as a goodbye.

 

She kept her eyes on the fire, deciding not to address Clarke until the other woman gave her some sort of sign that she wished to speak. She hoped she would. Though it had been harsh and had shaken years of teaching, she had enjoyed their last debate about duty and feelings.

 

Because she was so attentive, she immediately heard when Clarke started to sing.

 

She sang in a low voice, barely above a whisper. It was raspier than her usual voice, and certainly not the best singing voice Lexa had heard, but she was shaken by the emotion the words carried.

 

_I saw the light fade from the sky_

_On the wind I heard a sigh_

 

Lexa was intrigued by the first lyrics. Was it a _Skaikru's_ song about shooting stars? She remained immobile, determined to catch the words despite Clarke's near whisper.

 

_Night is now falling, so end this day._

_The road is now calling, and I must away_

_Over hill and under tree_

_T_ _hrough roads w_ _h_ _ere never light has shone_

_By silver streams that run down to the sea_

 

It was strange, to hear a song that described the forest and other lands so perfectly, that spoke of a journey, from the mouth of a woman who had admitted that she had never seen trees or walked on soil before. Was it perhaps a song from the old world, then? But why was Clarke singing it now?

 

_We came all this way_

_But now comes the day_

_To bid you farewell_

_Many places I have been_  
Many sorrows I have seen  
But I don't regret  
Nor will I forget  
All who took the road with me

 

Mourning, Lexa slowly realized. This was a song about mourning. About someone traveling and losing his companions. A glance at the woman's face confirmed her impression. Silent tears were falling down her cheeks as she finished her song, her eyes still strained to the stars. Was she missing her companions? Or the mother she had in the Ark?

 

Finally, the last words echoed in the night air. The warriors had heard the humming and stopped their conversation at some point – Lexa had not noticed until now, so focused was she on Clarke's song.

 

After a while, she commented softly. ''It is a beautiful song.''

 

''My mother and I used to sing it.'' She replied with a croaky voice.

 

''Why sing it now?'' Lexa asked as gently as she could.

 

''Because I fear this star was her. And I had promised to sing it at her funeral, once. It was a joke then.''

 

Lexa was startled. ''The shooting star?'' She lowered her voice, embarrassed by her surprised exclamation. ''Your people become stars when they die?'' She asked.

 

Clarke shook her head slowly. ''No. But when a body in thrown in space and approaches the Earth, it burns. That is what it looks like from the ground – a shooting star.'' She explained.

 

Lexa looked back to the stars, perturbed by the idea that the shooting stars she used to wish on as a child were in fact the corpses of Clarke's people. The memory of last week flashed in her mind.

 

''Then… a few days before we met… was that your people too?''

 

The blonde nodded wordlessly.

 

''But… there were at least hundreds of them…'' She weakly protested.

 

What could have happened to kill so many people in such a short time? Were her people at war? Had she ordered Anya to kill refugees? The thought made her sick.

 

''That was the point.'' Clarke answered in a low, and strangely angry voice.

 

''What do you mean?'' She pressed.

 

But the blonde shook her head. ''I am tired. I will go to sleep.''

 

She did not insist, belatedly remembering that the girl had claimed that the shooting star tonight might have been her mother. She wanted to ask why – was her mother sick when she left, or in some sort of danger? – but she respected her mourning and gave her time to fall asleep before entering the tent herself.

 

And when she heard the soft sobs later, she pretended that she was sleeping.


	6. To Polis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still in Lexa's POV. We are slowly starting the ''lessons'' on grounder culture and history (as I made it, don't expect everything to be canon).  
> Enjoy!

Lexa had expected Clarke to be closed up the next day, but she was proven wrong. So close to the capitol, the roads were well maintained and large. The horses could trot side by side, and Clarke was on her right. Gustus was the one who had made up the placement on their first day of travel, with his security-oriented mind. Putting people on her right meant that they were on her sword-arm side, and usually gave her the advantage if her companion decided to suddenly attack her as he or she would have to twist in their saddle to strike her.

Needless to say, Gustus had been utterly disappointed to discover that Clarke was left-handed.

The young woman used one of the moment when the horses were walking to address her.

''The Ark is dying.''

Lexa's eyes snapped up to meet Clarke's blue ones. She had not expected that.

Clarke broke away from her gaze, concentrating on the road ahead, before she continued.

''Remember what I told you about oxygen being like the tea leaves?''

She nodded, but the blonde was talking before she even finished the short motion.

''Well, we have exhausted all our supplies of leaves, and our last ones have already been used many times. My people are slowly suffocating up there.''

She paused. ''Before my father's death, I worked with my mother in the infirmary. Children are going blind, people are coughing and yawning all the time, students and apprentices can't concentrate and get hurt as a result. Even with our ability, there is nothing we can do. We can't replace what is just not there.'' She explained.

She rolled her shoulders. ''When the old world burned, our scientists calculated that it would take about two hundred years before it was safe to return to the ground. The Ark was supposed to last until then. But something went wrong a couple years ago, and we couldn't fix it. That's why we are choking.''

She glared at the sky, in the general direction of the Ark. ''So, our leaders decided to send some of us down, to see if it was possible to return to the ground earlier than planned. They fucked up the planning, though. The landing was harsher than it should have been, and as a result, we lost all means of contacting them and tell them that the air was not toxic.''

Lexa had kept her eyes on the blonde, so when Clarke turned her head back towards her, their gazes locked instantly.

''That is what those hundreds of shooting stars were. The leaders are culling the population to save air for the rest. Because we failed to reach them and confirm that there is breathable air here.'' She concluded, her eyes burning with guilt and sorrow.

Lexa was careful to remain impassive, but she felt her stomach churning in horror and bile rose in her throat. As a leader, she understood the decision to kill the few to save the many. But it did not make the act less terrible, and she felt sorry for Clarke who had witnessed the deaths while knowing that they weren't, in fact, necessary. Because those people could have breathed on the ground.

And Lexa almost hated Clarke for telling her that her people were suffering, that children were hurting. Because it made her feel sympathy for them, when as Commander she should worry about potential invaders.

''How long?'' She asked the healer.

She was answered with a shrug. ''Three or four month? Perhaps even six? It depends on how many people they killed. And on how many they will kill again when they once more fail to fix the problem.''

She nodded, filing away the information. She would have to order the sky to be watched at night. If no more shooting stars appeared in the coming months, it would probably mean that the Sky people were coming down anyway.

''And what about your mother?'' She asked in a softer tone.

She didn't really expect Clarke to answer. She had refused to talk about her father.

The blonde hesitated. Lexa could see the need to talk, to confide in someone in this difficult time warring with the wish to keep her cards close to her chest.

''My father had left her something to do if it came to culling, but it was dangerous. I don't know if she decided to go through with it. But if she did…'' She did not finish the sentence.

There was no need to. Whatever her father had planned, it probably was some sort of last resort. Something that could cost a lot if it failed, but save a lot if it worked.

The kind of solution you only used if you had absolutely nothing else left. Had her mother failed and killed herself because of the guilt? Or would this thing cost her life either way?

She knew the blonde would not tell her more on the subject, so she decided to exploit her talkative mood on other unanswered questions.

''Why were you and your companions chosen for this mission?'' She asked.

Anya's reports had described untrained children. It seemed a strange choice for such an important mission. Though, Clarke was smart and resourceful – even without her unique abilities. Perhaps her general had overlooked some qualities. Or underestimated them.

She suddenly worried about her mentor. What if the attack went wrong?

''I do not want to answer that.'' Clarke replied.

Somehow, that did not reassure Lexa. The blonde looked a mix of uncomfortable and wary at the question. It gave her little to base on assumptions. Moreover, she now knew that Clarke and her former companions were not the only invaders she had to deal with. How many were left in the sky if they decided to spare one hundred children, then kill hundreds to preserve the rest? The people of her Coalition often had several children, because they knew all would not reach adulthood. Part of the reason the clans had agreed to her Kongeda was the dwindling population because of the wars. Twenty years ago, one clan – the Golden Shore – had been absorbed by the Glowing Forest Clan because its population had been too low to defend their territories, and they had begged the protection of their neighbour.

She decided to try something else entirely.

''Do all of your people read and write?'' She asked with genuine curiosity.

The other woman appeared sincerely confused by her question. ''Of course. That's basically the first thing we are taught.'' She tilted her head. ''I take it yours don't?''

She shook her head. ''Trigedasleng is never written. Only warriors and officiates speak Gonasleng. Fewer learn how to write and read it.''

The blonde studied her, thinking. ''I have been wondering for a while actually. English – I mean Gonasleng – was the main language of these lands in the old world. Your ancestors spoke it. How did it evolve in Trigedasleng while Gonasleng somehow remained as well?''

Lexa recited the story from her teachings.

''Just after the world burned, all the clans spoke the old language. Secrets were not safe when a messenger was captured. One clan – there is a debate on which one – started to use a code language. Soon, all the others imitated it, and created their own code. All the warriors and the messengers had to be fluent with their code. They spoke it whenever they could, so their children learned it from them. Soon, all the clans favored these new languages over the old one. Gonasleng became the language of negotiations, because it was the only one all the clans had in common.''

''Now, ambassadors and generals speak several languages, and warriors all learn the old language. Especially since the Mountain became an enemy. They only speak Gonasleng, and we need our scouts to be able to understand the conversations they may overhear.'' She concluded.

Clarke nodded thoughtfully. ''It makes sense, I guess. On the Ark, it was the opposite. At first, it was twelve separate stations, and there were ten different languages. When they united to form the Ark after the world burned, people needed to work together. So English became the main language. The other ones are still taught amongst some families, but it is mostly out of pride and respect for the old nations. It doesn't really serve any purpose beyond that.''

They fell silent for a while, and Lexa stole glances at the blonde. She seemed to be mulling things over in her head. What was she trying to figure out?

She spoke up again. ''This Mountain… Is it Mount Weather? I recall you asking me if that was where I was from the first night. Is it really inhabited?'' She wondered aloud.

Lexa tightened her grip on the reins and bit back an angry retort. Clarke knew nothing of her people's suffering because of the Mountain. But even knowing this, it was hard to contain herself at the casual, almost dismissive way she talked about it.

''The Maunon have been taking and killing my people for over fifty summers.'' She snarled. ''Those that come out of the Mountain alive are soulless monsters that kill their own yongons.''

She was satisfied – and perhaps a little guilty – to see the blonde flinch at her tone.

But since she had been the one to bring it up…

''Anya's scouts mentioned that you and your former companions – at least a small group of them – tried to go to the Mountain shortly after your arrival from the sky.'' She said as casually as she could, hoping Clarke was still in a talkative mood.

She wondered why the woman was suddenly talking so much of her past. Sure, there were still subjects she refused to expand on, but it was quite a contrast from the first couple of days. Was it because they were close to Polis, and she preferred to tell things herself rather than have Lexa interrogate her people? Or was she starting to trust her?

Clarke replied with a derisive snort. ''I told you our leaders in the sky fucked up with the preparations. They gave us no supplies, just told us that Mount Weather was an old, empty bunker that should contain enough rations for us until they could follow. And then they dropped us on the wrong mountain.'' She grimaced and added. ''Though if they are as friendly as you say, we might have actually been lucky to land away from it.''

Lexa did not reply. She had already enough to worry about with Clarke and Anya's prisoners. She would reflect upon the Mountain and its potential links with the leaders in the sky later.

She enjoyed the ride for a while, comforted by the familiar scenes as they grew closer to her city. She was born Trikru, and spent some years in their lands as Anya's seken, but most of her childhood had been in Polis, with the other Nightbloods. The forest was thinning, and soon they would reach the plains and orchards that surrounded the capitol.

Polis belonged to no clan. It was the city of Heda, and a neutral territory. The first Heda had conquered the lands around it, and then offered shelters to those that fled the violence of the warring clans. Once the clans established their main frontiers, some had returned to their families.

Many had stayed, and the city had grown. Heda Becca died, and one of her apprentices succeeded her. He followed her legacy, offering shelter and then a neutral ground for Clan Chiefs to discuss and negotiate.

Slowly, the legend of Heda grew, until the position became the Sword that protected the people, the Voice that judged the Clans when their conflicts needed an outside arbitrary. It was an honor, for any family, to birth a Natblida and send him or her to Polis. Heda was the one chosen by the Spirit for all the people.

Which was why Clarke, the Healing Nymph, was so important. She was, Lexa believed, a test from the Spirit. Or perhaps the punishment that would ensure the Flame passed on to the next Commander soon.

Lexa had achieved what all the previous Commanders had dreamed to do: ending the wars by uniting the clans in a Coalition. The shadow of the Mountain had been the only threat that remained, and she had hoped that her or her heir would eventually manage to beat it as well. To offer true peace to all her people.

Then the sky had fallen.

What was she supposed to do with a people that invaded her, and destroyed one of her village without any real provocation? Why had the Spirit chosen to present her with a person who could ease many of her people sufferings, but tie her to hostile companions?

Was it a sign that she should welcome the Skaikru like she had welcomed Azgeda? Or did she have to personally earn Clarke's loyalty while hurting her by destroying another threat to her Coalition? How was she supposed to achieve that?

Tired of torturing herself with such thoughts, Lexa decided to ask more innocent questions.

''How old are you?''

The blonde thought for some time before replying and Lexa contained a huff of exasperation. Was this woman unable to reply directly?

''I think I turned eighteen a few days ago. I didn't really keep track of time since I landed, but I was a month away from my birthday when we were sent down. What about you?''

Well, it had certainly been a while since people casually asked her personal questions, but she replied anyway.

''I am twenty-one.''

''And how long have you been Commander? And how old in this Coalition?'' The blonde continued eagerly.

It was so strange, being asked what was common knowledge.

''I was fifteen when the Spirit of the previous Commander chose me. This will be the Coalition's third winter.'' She stated simply.

When Clarke failed to comment, she turned towards her. The blonde was gaping at her.

''Klark?'' She asked, worried. Had something happened?

The blonde closed her mouth and stared at her as she exclaimed.

''Fifteen? That's… And what is this about a Spirit? Reincarnation? How do they know they've got the right one anyway?'' She fired her questions without giving Lexa the time to answer.

She waited as the blonde continued in a similar manner for a good minute. Once she was done, Lexa looked at her and replied slowly to the main points.

''The Commander can only chose a Nightblood – a person with black blood. So, it is a tradition that Nightbloods are sent to Polis as soon as they are discovered. They are trained and educated by the Commander and the Flame keeper. When the Commander dies, the Flame keeper begins the Conclave. The last Nightblood receives the Flame – the Spirit of all the previous Commanders.''

''Okay…'' The blonde said slowly.

The clear disbelief in her tone and in her eyes irritated Lexa.

''How are your leaders chosen? From what little you told me, they are not the most capable.'' She observed.

''They are elected. Politicians who want to become Chancellor have to convince people that they are the best choice. They keep the position for four years, and then there is a new election – either they win and go on for four more years, or they lose and someone else takes the job.'' The young woman explained.

''It sounds like a very unstable system. How can you achieve anything in four years?'' Lexa commented.

''Isn't that the time it took you to create the Coalition?'' Clarke pointed out with a furrowed brow.

''Yes, but the previous Commanders had worked towards it before. I am merely the incarnation in which we saw it happen. My spirit will have many more battles to wage until the Coalition is strongly established, and against the threat of the Mountain. The Spirit offers us continuity. If Heda's purpose changed every four years, the clans would still be at war.'' She argued.

The blonde now seemed curious. ''So, you remember being the other Commanders?'' She wondered.

Lexa shook her head minutely. ''No. But they guide me through visions, and the one just before me taught me as I grew up, explaining all of his plans and hopes for our people. It is my duty to carry on until my body dies.''

''What about the Clans Chiefs? How are they chosen?''

''Some keep the title in the same family, like the Ice Nation. Others choose a child that they groom into an heir. Two clans organize tournaments to chose their new leaders. And in many clans, you may challenge the ruler if you believe him unfit.''

''But not Heda?''

''Heda is chosen by the Spirit. I may be challenged, but only the Spirit may decide. If he wants me to pass on to the next Commander, I will die. If not, I will survive. The people know this. One who challenges me and fails will fall into disgrace, for he unjustly doubted the Spirit.''

Lexa could see that Clarke was trying to connect all this with what she had learned before.

''So, when they call me the Healing Nymph sent to save your life, they think I am the Spirit's way of keeping you alive? And that is why your enemies may hesitate now that I am here?'' She wondered.

Lexa nodded in confirmation.

Clarke bristled and clenched her fists. ''I am my own person. Not some sort of prophet or whatever.''

''Yet you were clearly chosen. What were the chances of someone as unique as you to be born in the sky, sent down to the ground, and then pass through this particular village at the moment of the attack?'' She pointed out smugly.

''But you have been chosen, and you must therefore use such strength and heart and wits as you have.'' Clarke said in a strange tone, as if quoting an old teaching, her face still a mask of disgust at the very idea.

''What was that?'' Lexa asked, surprised by the unusual wording.

''A quote from an old book. I read it several times and memorized some parts. I can't say that I believe in spirits or gods of any kind, but I agree that sometimes fate seems to mock us.'' She sighed.

''What is it about? The book? Who was this chosen person?''

Clarke smiled. ''It is a fascinating story, in an imaginary world. This 'chosen' has an important mission, and does not feel up to the task but he knows he has to keep going or all will be lost. He is not a warrior, or especially smart. He is just an honest person determined to do the right thing and see it through.''

Fascinated, Lexa tried to picture this person, who somehow ended up looking a lot like Aden in her mind – which was unfair as the boy was both strong and smart. Shaking away the image, she asked.

''And? Does he succeed?''

Clarke smirked, and Lexa got the feeling that the blonde had wanted her to ask that particular question. ''No.''

She scowled, disappointed. ''So, my words remind you of a story of failure?''

The blonde shook her head fondly, still smiling. ''I never said the mission was not completed. He went very far, but no longer had the strength to finish his task. But he went far enough that one single lucky moment was enough to save them all. Failure is not what the story is about, in the end.''

''What is it about, then?'' Lexa asked.

''Fate mocking us all. Because after all that he endured, it was fate that made the last decision. It saved him, but it could have rendered all the sacrifices meaningless just as easily.'' Clarke pondered.

She frowned. She sensed that the full story must be much more complex, for life was rarely simple, but she was still perturbed by the conclusion.

''I am not sure I like this story.'' She eventually said. ''The Spirit protects the people. It would never undo all the efforts made to better their conditions, just to mock us.''

The blonde gave her a look, pointedly lingering on her sword and pauldron, and grinned. ''A story of epic battles and sacrifices? No, I am sure you wouldn't like it.'' She commented in a teasing voice. ''You can read, right? There has to be some copies of the book that survived the apocalypse. It was one of the most famous stories.'' She mused aloud.

''There are books in Polis. I was actually thinking of asking for your help in sorting them. It is usually the duty of the Flame keeper, but Titus has no apprentice, and spends most of his time with me or the Nightbloods. He cannot waste time deciphering old stories.'' Lexa informed her companion.

Clarke chuckled. ''I have another quote for you, from the same book. But do not despise the lore that has come down from distant years; for oft it may chance that old wives keep in memory word of things that once were needful for the wise to know. It basically means that you should not underestimate those old books. Those from before spent centuries studying the world, waging wars or developing their economy. Why let all this go to waste? Why spend years making the same mistakes they did, instead of learning from them?'' She reasoned. ''Reading was basically the only thing I was allowed to do in solitary.'' She added in a quieter voice, and visibly stopped herself from continuing the thought.

Lexa filed away the comment but did not call her on it, not wanting to cause the young woman to close up before she could secure her agreement. She allowed herself a small smile. ''That is why Hedas never threw away the books. But it takes a long time to sort them all. I take it you accept to investigate the Tower's library? You will of course have to report to me of what you find.''

Clarke hummed. ''How about another deal? I sort your books, but you have to read the ones I give you.'' She offered.

''I do not have the time for such endeavors.'' Lexa immediately objected.

She had no wish to embarrass herself in front of the healer with her slow reading and incomprehension of nearly half the words. There was a reason Hedas and Fleimkeepas were going through the books so slowly.

''I won't give you too many of them, and you can read them at your own pace.'' Clarke bargained with a widening smile. ''And I promise I will give you useful ones, not only stories.''

Still, it was one way of convincing her Nymph to remain in Polis, and close to her. As long as everything went fine with Anya.

''Very well, I will agree to your terms.'' She declared formally.

It was fortunate that they finished their conversation now, as they finally exited the forest and Clarke's jaw dropped at the sight. Lexa barked an order to stop and pulled on her reins to let the young woman take in the scene.

Polis was in the middle of a great plain, with some orchards to the east of the city. The Tower culminated the center of the capitol, the great flame alight at the top. Lexa watched with pride as Clarke's eyes slowly followed the streets and buildings of her home. She knew that most of the buildings were ruins from the old world, but her people had had more than enough time to appropriate them. Big and colorful pieces of clothes had replaced damaged doors or windows, walls of concrete gave way to ones of strong wood, furs were laid on the roofs to dry and soften, street walls were covered with children's drawings that overlapped one another more and more as the years passed.

She liked this sight of a thriving, happy city. Oh, of course sometimes life was harsh. Winters could be long, children lost their parents or a father mourned his deceased son. Life was life. But on the whole, this city was her home, and it looked just like that. A home.

She broke the silence, impatient to get back to her Tower now that it was in sight. It would still take a couple of candle-marks to reach the gates.

''We should go. Anya is probably here with your people already.''

The reminder of what needed to be discussed in the capitol proved effective. Clarke closed her mouth and urged her horse forward with a squeeze of her legs. They resumed their ride to the city, but Lexa noticed that the blonde was once again rotating in her saddle, attempting to take in everything at once. She only stopped when her horse shook its head and stumbled, nearly unsitting her.

When they passed the gates, Lexa gestured for a runner to go ahead and warn Titus of her arrival. The distance to the Tower was not far, but she knew the crowd would slow them down. She also asked the messenger to come back with news of Anya and the prisoners. Hopefully, she would be able to think of the best way to approach the situation before Clarke saw her people, giving her the upper hand in the coming negotiation.


	7. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is a bit late... I have been busy this week-end, sorry :-)

Unfortunately, the news were not what Lexa had hoped. Anya had been delayed. She was expected tonight or tomorrow with the prisoners, but had not sent ahead more information on how the attack went or how many prisoners she had taken.

Still, Lexa reflected, the delay likely meant a large number of prisoners. Clarke did not know how to ride before, and mentioned that none of her people did. If there were more prisoners than escorting warriors, Anya might have elected to make the journey on foot or piled all the prisoners in a horse-pulled cart. Hence the slight delay.

For now, though, she was cautious to keep these deductions to herself, just in case she was wrong. Anya, in her stubbornness, might also be delayed because she decided to start interrogating the Skaikru despite the Commander's orders to bring them to Polis immediately.

For Lexa, this would be the worst case scenario. Clarke would most likely be furious – which would make the negotiations all the more complicated – and Lexa would have to punish her former mentor for disregarding orders. Anya had always gotten away with small disobediences, because none were publicly done and Lexa was loath to punish the woman who had helped shape her into who she was today. But in this instance, she would have no choice. Worse, if the torture had been extensive or resulted in the death of even one prisoner, Clarke would have the right to demand Anya's death in reparation, according to their laws. Not that Lexa planned to point this out, but she had no idea how disobediences were punished in the Ark, and dared not ask directly as she expected the blonde to then enquire about her own people's customs.

Titus was waiting for them at the foot of the Tower, much to Lexa's annoyance. She knew her old teacher meant well, but after six years as the Commander, she was growing frustrated with his frequent interference. She schooled her face into a mask as she dismounted and greeted him. He replied distractedly, his eyes going back and forth between Clarke and herself. Lexa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Though he had been the one to teach her to carefully control her expressions, he was sometimes far too easy to read.

''Titus, may I introduce you to my guest: the Healing Nymph. She saved my life a few days ago, as I am sure you have heard.'' She spoke in a loud voice, wanting the crowd to hear her confirmation of the blonde's identity as well. She had no idea how rumors could travel faster than horses, but tales of the Nymph's deeds had clearly reached Polis, for the crowd started cheering and Titus scowled.

She would have to tell him the whole story before he relented. But he was a firm believer in the Spirit, and she knew he would see Clarke's appearance as the blessing it must be.

Clarke, she noticed, was growing uncomfortable with the attention from the crowd and almost glaring at her. She had gathered, by all the comments of the blonde, that she disapproved of the title bestowed upon her by the Trikru and all the attention that accompanied it.

It was refreshing to see someone that did not bask in the fame, but also strange. Lexa herself enjoyed the attentions of her people, because she knew she had earned it through her actions and that it pleased them to thank her. Clarke had been adamant in her refusal of the gifts the villagers had repeatedly offered, even when those were presented as trade for her healing. She would have to ask her more about it some time.

For now though, she took pity on the young woman and gave instructions to prepare the empty room that was on the same floor as hers. Better to keep her healer close for now. Besides, that was exactly what the room was intended – Heda's healer. Unfortunately, there weren't even enough healers for all the villages, so Lexa – as her last few predecessors – had elected to go without one. There were few risk of her getting hurt in the Tower, anyway.

A few hours later, Lexa was massaging her temples while she looked down at the streets. They were less crowded, people returning to their homes and preparing the evening meal. There was still light, but night was falling earlier every day.

Her discussion with Titus had been as expected – redundant and tiring – but her Flame keeper supported her reasonings were Clarke was concerned. The one point on which they disagreed was Clarke's people. Titus was of a mind to kill Anya's prisoners before Clarke could see them, and claim that they all refused to surrender. That way, he argued, the Nymph would have no more ties to a people that could stir her away from Heda and the Spirit. Lexa, having seen glimpses of the leader that Clarke would have been if that boy had not tried to kill her, refused vehemently. She was certain that Clarke would find out such treachery sooner or later, and she doubted she would forgive it. Moreover, it did not solve the problem of Clarke's loyalty to the Ark. If the Healing Nymph absolutely had to go, it was probably better for it to happen sooner rather than later.

However, she could understand that Titus was uneasy with the current situation. They had no real information from Anya to plan on, and everything could go wrong very quickly. At least with Titus' extreme solution, the road would be clearly cut.

That was often Titus problem. His solutions were usually too short-term, whereas the Flame encouraged her to plan for the long-term. It did not matter if she died before she could bring her plans to fruition – the Flame would remain and see it through.

As she stared at the streets, she noticed the column of riders approaching from the gates. The dirty blond hair of the first rider was easy to recognize.

Anya.

Quickly, Lexa studied the rest of the party. There was a cart, relatively small – it could not house more than four people, or six at the most, those sky people were very thin after all. The silhouettes were still too far for her to see if some horses carried two riders instead of one. Counting the number of horses, Lexa estimated the number of prisoners between four and fifteen.

What would be a good number for Clarke?

She was startled when the blonde she was currently thinking about strode inside her throne room. She was still dressed in her own dirty clothes – Lexa would really have to talk her into accepting more clothes – but she had rinsed off the dirt from the road.

''What are you doing here?'' She asked her. She had not sent anyone to summon her. She had planned to talk to Anya and assess the prisoners conditions first.

''The windows of the room I was shown to offer a good view of the city gates. Am I right to assume that this is your general?''

Lexa refused to answer her question and insisted. ''How did you convince the guards to let you in?''

Clarke looked sincerely confused. ''Er… I just told him that I was supposed to discuss the prisoners with you and your general Anya.''

Lexa turned back to the window to hide her rolling eyes. Of course. Even her warriors saw Clarke as a mystical figure that was allowed near the Commander without question. She should have anticipated that and ordered for the blonde to be detained until she personally summoned her.

Too late for that, now.

''Anya and your people will be here shortly.'' She said in her most official voice.

Before she could think of a reason to send the blonde away until she had explained the situation to Anya, Clarke sat down on the dais of her throne.

''Good. Don't worry about me, I'll just wait here.''

Something in her voice made Lexa turn to study her.

Gone was the carefree woman from their journey, or the girl who spoke passionately about love and healing. Sitting unceremoniously on the floor was an inexperimented but stubborn leader determined to do what was best for her people. Clarke sent her a knowing look, and made a show of stretching her legs.

She gritted her teeth. The blonde had anticipated her wish to see the general without her first, and had probably watched out for Anya as soon as she noticed the view from her window. Then, she had rushed to Lexa, and would most likely follow her if she decided to go meet her general outside. The brunette could not even send a messenger without Clarke knowing.

Worse, Clarke was smart but lacked first-hand experience in such matters. As years passed, Lexa had had many occasions to review her own decisions and actions with a more mature look. Though some of her actions in the first couple of years had yielded great results, she now realized how costly or risky – if not both – they had been. If she had to make the same decisions again today, she would probably choose differently. She had witnessed the same evolution in the ambassadors since the beginning of the Coalition. Such leaders often leaned towards extreme decisions – sometimes passively agreeing to anything regardless of whether or not it was doable, and sometimes stupidly refusing to compromise.

With her insolent barging into the throne room and blatant refusal to leave, Clarke was clearly of the stupidly stubborn category. Lexa would just have to think quickly. She had long learned that these needed to vent and that negociating was often pointless until they had calmed down. Or that a pre-emptive offer could greatly destabilize them. They usually expected to be disappointed by the proposed offer.

A guard entered the room to warn her that Anya was in the elevator and would be here soon. She dismissed him with a nod and sent him to fetch Titus and Gustus – in case she would need advice and to serve as witness of whatever would be decided. She went to sit on her throne, and addressed Clarke.

''You are my guest. You cannot sit on the floor in front of my advisor and general.''

''If you say so. But I doubt I am allowed to sit in those chairs.'' She remarked, pointing to the decorated seats of the ambassadors.

''This is not a matter to be discussed with the other clans for now. You may choose a seat, or remain standing by my side, as you prefer.'' She offered.

The blonde stood. ''I'll just stand, then. I feel too nervous to sit comfortably anyway.''

Lexa was about to comment on this last statement when the doors opened. Titus and Gustus strode in, taking their positions by her side and acknowledging Clarke with a sharp nod. Anya followed them in and bowed before her Heda.

''Heda. My second, Tris, and a few warriors are escorting the prisoners to you. They are injured, and we have to move them carefully.'' She explained.

''Injured?'' A cold voice immediately intervened.

Clarke. An angry looking Clarke.

''Is that how you treat prisoners when they surrender?'' She continued in a low growl, turning towards Lexa.

Before she could reply, Anya rose to her feet, hand on her sword. ''Who are you to disrespect Heda?'' She snarled.

Lexa sighed discretely. Negociations had not even begun yet, and the two were riling each other up. She knew Anya enough to see the subtle signs of frustration in her demeanour when she had announced that she only had a few wounded prisoners to present. The general was already feeling shame from failing her Heda, and now a stranger was condemning her actions.

Clarke jumped from the dais and walked until she was only a couple feet away from Anya. ''You harmed my people?'' She asked in a warning tone.

''You dare to threaten me?'' Anya growled back, unsheathing her sword and resting the point against Clarke's neck.

The blonde smirked evilly. ''Go ahead. Or try, at least.''

Lexa shot to her feet and barked at Anya to stand down before she could pierce Clarke's neck. She had no problem letting the two vent some frustration, but things were starting to go too far.

''Onya, you will show respect to my guest.'' She warned. ''I ordered you to bring me the prisoners directly, and not to harm them. I wished to handle the interrogations myself.''

She turned slightly. She had tolerated a lot of insolence from Clarke until now, hoping to have a pacated opponent when negociations began. But she would not allow the blonde to abuse this. ''Klark, you are my guest and I expect you to behave as such. Or is respect not taught to your people?''

Slowly, Anya lowered her sword, not taking her eyes off the blonde woman. Clarke only moved away when Lexa walked up to the duo. She would not continue this discussion shouting across the room while two blonde hot heads tried to tear each other apart.

Anya finally replied, her gaze still wary whenever she glanced at Clarke. ''We did not have to attack. My scouts reported an inner power struggle in the invaders camp, and I decided to use this opportunity to strike. But by the time my troops arrived, the Mountain men had captured them. We found those cans they use to send the red fog that makes warriors sleep.''

Lexa's brow furrowed and she felt Clarke tense beside her. ''How do you have prisoners, then?''

''The first one was captured several days before the intended attack. We questioned him to prepare our troops. I wanted to send him with the disease to weaken them, but he claimed that his people would shoot him as soon as they saw him. He was banished or he fled, I am not sure.''

Clarke growled again. ''You tortured him?''

Anya straightened proudly. ''It is how things are done in wars.'' She bit back.

''Enough!'' Lexa exclaimed. ''Anya, what about your other prisoners?''

Her general deflated almost imperceptibly, probably sensing her Commander's disappointment with the news. ''I only have one other. It is a girl, with a gunshot wound in the back. The Mountain men did not take her. I had my healers do what they could to keep her alive, but I do not think she will last more than a few days. You should interrogate her quickly, Heda.''

''Like hell you are!'' Clarke screamed in fury. ''Bring me to her!'' She demanded.

Almost in answer to her command, the doors of the room opened again and Tris strode in with a bounded boy, followed by two warriors who carried a stretcher.

Lexa quickly assessed the boy's condition. He was thin, like Clarke, obviously weary and still bore the marks of Anya's questioning. Thankfully, the boy must have cracked quickly – the worst she could see were torn nails.

She noticed Clarke's surprise when she saw him. Suddenly, she wondered why the boy had been afraid to go back to his camp. The Spirit would not make Anya stumble upon the boy who had tried to kill Clarke, right?

One further glance at the healer's face reassured her on that score. Surely she would be more angry if faced with someone who tried to kill her. Right now, she was simply and honestly surprised.

''Murphy?'' Clarke croaked.

The boy looked up from the ground and saw Clarke. Surprise etched on his features as well, but the sight seemed to bring him more comfort than fear.

''Princess? Is that you? Thought you were dead! Raven said you were!''

Princess?! Frantically, Lexa searched her memory for any hint Clarke might have let slipped about her status. She absently noticed Anya's head snap up at the title and Titus's shoulders sagging.

Clarke's father was dead, and she believed her mother was in danger, if not already dead. She had refused to say why she had been chosen for the mission on the ground. Was there some political struggle in the Ark? Was Clarke here both to assess the survivability of the ground and to be safely away from conspirators? She had claimed her people elected leaders, but what real guarantees did she have that the blonde had been truthful apart from her word?

She spoke up at the same time as the blonde.

''You are the princess of your people?''

''Who the hell is Raven?''

Clarke ignored her, focusing on the boy – Murphy – as he answered her by pointing to the girl on the stretcher.

''She said she was sent by your mother and that the others said you were dead. Bellamy shot her because he destroyed her radio, or something. She kept mumbling the whole way here.''

So it seemed Anya was not to blame for this girl's injuries. Good.

Clarke was already moving to the girl's side. Lexa watched as the blonde quickly assessed her injuries, and gently rolled her to inspect the gunshot wound. She extended her left hand towards the Commander without looking at her.

''Can you give me that dagger you are always playing with?'' She asked.

Anya immediately stepped forwards, her hand flying to her sword at the demanding tone. Lexa raised a hand to stop her before she could make the situation worse.

When her hand remained empty, Clarke turned just enough to send her a glare.

''I need to extract the bullet before I can heal her. Give me that fucking dagger!'' She yelled.

Lexa complied, and in hope to convey some explanation to Anya on the current situation commented.

''Show us what you are capable of, Nymph.''

Clarke grunted in reply, and started to carefully slice the girl's – Raven – skin to widen the healing wound. When she moaned in pain and trashed, Clarke glanced at the warriors holding the stretcher.

''Put the stretcher on the floor and hold her down. That wound is ugly enough as it is, I don't want her to go into shock.''

Lexa nodded in confirmation when the warriors looked at her, clearly unsure of who was this blonde girl who had screamed in the face of the Commander and got away with it.

Clarke kneeled next to the girl and resumed her task, slicing through the muscles with precise and quick movements that betrayed her experience. Clearly, she had not been lying when she claimed to have studied conventional medicine rather than rely solely on her gift. Soon, she discarded the dagger and used her fingers to fumble in the wound until she extracted the bullet.

Immediately, she pressed both hands against her patient's back. Raven had fallen unconscious at some time during the procedure, and all the warriors were staring at the scene with wide eyes.

After a long and tense minute, Clarke removed her hands, revealing healthy skin free of bruises or wound.

The blonde sighed and relaxed slightly. ''She is fine. She just needs rest, now. I feared nerve damage, but the bullet was not that deep, and your healers must have contained the inflamation enough.''

She rose to her feet. ''Your turn, Murphy.''

The boy was staring at his unconscious companion, mouth wide open. His jaw snapped shut when he heard Clarke address him.

''Er… What was that trick, Princess? You're not touching me until you explain!'' He stuttered, taking a half-step back.

Lexa contained a growl at the disrespect the boy demonstrated to his own probable leader, and saw Clarke roll her eyes at the weak protest. The blonde stepped forward and grabbed the boy's hands with a quick move.

''Long story short, I can heal you. There, new hands.'' She added as she released her hold on his now healed fingers. ''Happy?'' She drawled.

They were interrupted by Anya who was looking alternatively at Raven's back, Lexa and Clarke's bloody hands.

''Who are you?''

Clarke ignored her and turned towards Lexa.

''If you don't mind, I am taking those two to that room you gave me. Raven needs rest, and your general will not touch Murphy again until I am sure he will not be harmed. You can come to talk once you have decided what to do with my people.''

Without waiting for her response, she picked up the stretcher. ''Come on, Murphy, help me carry her.''

Lexa turned to the warriors that had carried the stretcher in. ''Escort them. And order for bath water and food to be delivered to her room.'' She ordered Tris.

As soon as the warriors left the room, Lexa walked back to her throne and fell into it.

''You have delivered me a very complicated situation, Anya.'' She stated.

Her general and Titus gazes were still trained to the door, as though they could somehow still see Clarke despite the thick panels of wood.

''Who is she, Lexa? You called her Nymph?'' Anya finally asked, all agressivity gone after the display of Clarke's ability.

''She saved my life a few days ago, when Azgeda assassins struck me with a poisoned knife. What you have seen is only one of her talents. I saw that woman pull a dagger out of her chest and the wound seal itself as she did.''

She paused. ''Unfortunately, it appears she is also someone important to those Sky people. She was separated from them a few weeks ago, and alone until she stumbled on the assassination attempt. She only agreed to come to Polis because I promised she would be reunited with those of her former companions that you took prisoners.''

Anya stared. ''You believe she was sent to you by the Spirit.''

''With such abilities, and appearing from the forest to save my life, how can she not be?'' Lexa argued.

''But she is Skaikru.'' Anya protested.

''For now.'' Titus said.

Lexa glared at him. ''If I welcomed Azgeda, I can welcome Skaikru.'' She declared, reminding him of their earlier argument.

She reached for her dagger, needing something to occupy her hands while she thought, and was startled to find the sheath empty. She remembered that Clarke had taken it to treat the brunette girl and located it on the floor, where she had abandoned it. Regretfully, she wrapped her hands together to give herself some countenance. She did not need to hear Titus comment on her nervous habits again.

''Tales of Clarke's powers have already spread. The people might lose faith in the Commander if she walks away now.'' She stated.

''She warned me that their home in the sky would soon crumble. More people from the Sky will arrive, sooner or later. I believe Clarke is a message from the Spirit. We should treat them as refugees and not invaders. It is Heda's duty to offer a haven for the people in need of one.''

''The clans will not approve.'' Anya cautioned. ''They burned a village without cause. They only speak Gonasleng. They are too much alike the Mountain men.''

''But you claim that the Mountain captured them. Clearly, they are not allies. This should moderate the Clans' anger.'' Lexa reasoned.

''What about the village they destroyed? We must have reparation. Just because they are refugees does not absolve them of our laws.''

''I will talk to Clarke and her companions. Unless I say otherwise, they are all to be treated as guests, and not prisoners.''

She rose. ''Anya, have rooms prepared for Raven and Murphy in the lower levels. They cannot remain on this floor.''


	8. Deals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Clarke's POV. Enjoy!

Clarke stormed down the corridors until she reached her rooms, followed by the guards that carried Raven and a stumbling Murphy.

 

She wasn't sure what she had expected when she saw the general pass the gates of the city, but she knew this was the last possible scenario she could have imagined.

 

Murphy had fled the dropship a couple of days before Bellamy tried to kill her, and she had thought he was wandering the forest, trying to survive much like she did until she met the Commander. Yet, here he was, most likely captured by this Anya general soon after he left the camp. How long had he been kept locked up - and tortured?

 

And Raven… She vaguely recalled the name and face from the Ark. Her mother had been sorry to hear Jackson had diagnosed her with a heart murmur when the Latina girl had been so eager to start training as a zero-G mechanic. She had enlisted Clarke's help in healing the girl, agreeing to Sinclair's plea for a second check-up – the man had been as disappointed as Raven by the news. Abby had made a show of sprouting a lot of medical terms to distract the depressed brunette while Clarke examined the girl – as a doctor trainee – and used this to place her hand near the chest and heal her until she stopped hearing the murmur. Then Abby had confirmed Clarke's claim that there was no murmur, allowing them to proceed on to an ultrasound that – obviously – came back negative.

 

Sinclair had mentioned several times afterwards that he was delighted that the mistake had been corrected, and that Raven was a pure genius.

 

So what was she doing on the ground? She had not been in the dropship.

 

She directed the warriors to lay the young woman on the bed and covered her with furs after dismissing them. She doubted they would go any further than the other side of the door – and perhaps even listen to whatever she said to report to the Commander – but she did not care about that right now.

 

''Murphy, you said Raven was sent by my mom?'' She asked the boy.

 

He took a step back. ''Wow, not so fast, Princess! I still want an explanation on what the hell happened in that room. I mean, thanks for the hands, really, but what sort of freak are you?''

 

With a sigh, Clarke proceeded to quickly explain her whole family history and also how she had stumbled upon the Commander. There was no point in sugar-coating things, as she doubted the boy would harm her – worst that could happen was him not wanting anything to do with her again, and she was not close enough to him for such a decision to hurt her.

 

''Jeez, you sure had an interesting time. Mine was a bit old fashioned – spending all days in a cell, not really new.'' He paused and raised his still tied hands. ''Any chance you can remove these? Since you're close buddy with the great Commander and all?''

 

She had not even remembered the rope until now. She buried her head in her palms, ashamed.

 

''Sure, Murphy, sorry.''

 

She walked to a table and grabbed the small dagger that had been brought with the food to cut the meat. She paused, and prepared a plate before walking back in front of Murphy. She cut the rope and handed him the plate.

 

''Eat up. I am not sure what the Commander is planning, but it can only be easier on a full stomach. And that girl, Tris, said that there would be water for a bath arriving soon.''

 

Murphy took the plate with a smirk.

 

''I say, Princess, you should go and save freaky Commanders of unknown populations more often. I could get used to that kind of treatment.''

 

Clarke snorted.

 

A few minutes later, a groan informed them that Raven was waking up. Clarke rose to stand by the bed, expecting the brunette to be quite confused.

 

She opened her eyes blearily, blinking at the fading light of the sun that filtered in from the windows.

 

''Er… Holy shit, am I dead?'' She mumbled and focused loosely on Clarke. ''God, I thought angels being blue-eyed blond-haired bimbos was a cliche!''

 

Clarke's jaw dropped while Murphy burst out laughing.

 

''I am honestly unsure of whether I should be flattered or offended by this statement.'' She finally said.

 

Shaking her head, she fixed another plate for Raven. ''I am Clarke Griffin, by the way.''

 

The brunette looked up at her. ''Crap, does that mean I am dead? Bellamy said you fell into some spiky trap. I went there, 'cause your mom said your wristband was still emitting when I left so it sounded a bit fishy. But I saw the blood on the spikes, others said the grounders had probably taken your body for decorating or whatever. What are you doing here?''

 

She looked around, apparently realizing for the first time that she was inside some richly furnished room in a concrete and wood building. ''Where the fuck are we, by the way? Heaven looks like shit so far. But the bed is very comfy.'' She added, wiggling a little and prodding herself against the pillows as she grabbed the plate Clarke was still offering her.

 

Murphy intervened in his usual drawl.

 

''Princess is a freaking immortal who spends her days saving mysterious hot leaders and healing tortured sky people.''

 

Clarke rubbed her temples. Somehow, Murphy had adapted to the knowledge of her abilities remarkably well. She would be grateful if he was not teasing her when she was barely stopping herself from having a fit at the current situation with Lexa and her general. ''I will tell you the full story some other time, but that's a good summary.''

 

Her head snapped up, belatedly registering part of what the boy had said. ''Wait, 'hot leaders'?''

 

The boy shrugged. ''Well, she is. I had bloody hands, but my eyes were fully functiunal. But the way she was looking at your and Raven's figures, I don't think she is into guys, so I'll just find my own grounder woman. What about you, Princess? There were a lot of bets going on in the Ark, you know.'' He commented.

 

Clarke just glared at him. She knew about the bets, of course. Homosexuality and bisexuality were not a taboo on the Ark, but same-gender couples rarely had children. None of the stations that had gathered to form the Ark had the machines necessary for in vitro fecundation, so the only way was to ask for one of the couple to have a child with someone else. Many elected not to have a child at all.

 

It should be a private matter, but before her imprisonment Clarke was expected to succeed her mother as Head Surgeon. And since most prestigious jobs were obtained through recommendation, they were pretty much hereditary. When she openly admitted to being bisexual, many people had started to take an interest in her love life, hoping she would settle with a woman and not have a child, therefore leaving her own succession as Head Surgeon open to other families in three or four decades.

 

Raven swallowed some meat before asking. ''So, does that mean this Commander is hot? You interested, Griffin?''

 

Clarke rolled her eyes. ''Seriously, guys, I'll do whatever I can do keep you alive and away from the torture chambers, but it would really help if you did not comment on the Commander's ass.''

 

''So you admit that she has a great ass?'' Raven exclaimed, pointing at her with a piece of carrot. ''When do I get to meet this hot chick again?''

 

''You already did, while you were mumbling nonsense.'' Clarke retorted.

 

A knock on the door interrupted them, and it opened before Clarke could ask who it was.

 

The Commander strode in as if she owned the place – which she actually did, Clarke reasoned, but wasn't she allowed some privacy as a guest? – and turned to Clarke after saluting the others with a nod.

 

''Rooms are being prepared for your companions. The water for their baths is being brought there as we speak. I promise you that no harm will come to them for now, but we do have many things to discuss. A village was destroyed, and my people want justice.''

 

''You know, you never really explained how you knew for sure it was my people and not the Mountain that did that.'' She observed, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

She was not letting Raven and Murphy out of her sight until she had cleared this mess. She wanted to trust Lexa, she really did, but that general had tortured Murphy despite her Commander's orders. Would she disobey her again?

 

''The village is away from the Mountain's usual reach, and too small to be a target – it was only four families. Its inhabitants talked of small missiles that did not explode but set their houses on fire. Thankfully, there were no casualties as the noise woke them before they were trapped by the flames, but some got badly burnt and all the village and its provisions for winter were destroyed.'' The Commander detailed.

 

''Er… From what you say, I think that could be our flares.'' Raven croaked from the bed. ''Never meant to harm anyone, I was trying to reach the Ark before they killed three hundred people. Didn't really take the time to think on where they would fall down. Are the kiddies okay?''

 

Clarke saw the Commander turn to glare at the other brunette, who looked genuinely apologetic and slightly worried.

 

''You are the one who sent them?''

 

''With some help to get everything ready, but yeah. Sorry again. I'm usually much better at the whole 'greet the neighbors' stuff. Saved my life, actually.'' Raven commented.

 

Clarke was confused by her last sentence. ''Saved your life?''

 

''My mum sold my rations for booze. Finn was my neighbor, and after I met him he shared his rations with me so I wouldn't starve.'' She explained with a shrug that contrasted with the tears in her eyes.

 

The Latina glared at the Commander despite her wet cheeks. ''One of your people killed him. Stabbed him in the chest when he went to rescue the girl he kidnapped.''

 

Clarke clenched her jaw. ''And you say my people were unprovoked? From what I have seen and heard, your people threw spears and daggers at mine, kidnapped and tortured them without cause, while mine _accidentally_ burned a village – for which I am grateful there were no casualties, of course.''

 

Lexa seemed perturbed. ''I was unaware that one of my people had harmed one of yours. I will order Anya to find him, and he will be punished. My warriors were under strict orders not to approach your people. But I still need reparation for the families of that village. Unless you have something to offer me, I will have to ask for that one's life. They will demand it.'' She explained, nodding at Raven.

 

''Remember those quotes I gave you this morning? I will give you my favorite one. It allowed me to dream of a better future once my people returned to the ground. One were we could actually follow that quote.'' Clarke offered, hoping to reason Lexa and gain some time while she furiously searched for a solution.

 

The Commander clasped her hands behind her back and tilted her head. ''I am listening.''

 

'' _Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. For even the very wise cannot see all ends._ '' She quoted reverently.

 

'' _Jus drein jus daun_ – Blood must have blood – has always been the way of our people. We must have compensation for what was lost.'' Lexa persisted, shaking her head.

 

''But no one died. Why demand a life?'' Clarke argued. ''I can heal the wounded – you know I can, you have seen me heal worse things than that – and whatever else was lost can be built or crafted again. Raven is a mechanic genius. How about she offers her talents to you for a while to pay the rest of the debt?'' She offered.

 

Lexa furrowed her brow, mulling it over. ''That sounds… reasonable. There is no time to rebuild before winter, so the families are settling in Polis tomorrow – they followed Anya with what little they managed to salvage. I can provide them with what they need, essentially paying your people's debt, and then Raven will repay me through her work. It is… unusual but acceptable.''

 

She looked almost relieved that a peaceful solution had been found.

 

''Hey, don't I have a say in this?'' Raven called out.

 

Clarke rolled her eyes – she had a feeling she was going to do that a lot around the Latina. ''Would you rather be tied to a tree and executed slowly and painfully?'' She asked rhetorically, having heard of the way the grounders usually executed their criminals.

 

''Eww, no thanks, I'll pass. You got yourself a mechanic, Commander. How long am I gonna be working for you by the way?'' She inquired.

 

''We can discuss the particulars later. Warm water must be waiting for you in your rooms. The guards will show you there.'' Lexa replied, while gesturing for two warriors to come in an escort Murphy and Raven away. The boy snickered when Raven grumbled at having to get out of the warm furs.

 

The door closed behind them, leaving Clarke alone with the Commander.

 

''I liked that quote.'' She said unexpectedly.

 

Clarke rose an eyebrow. ''Do you really? It seems a bit contradictory with your traditions.''

 

''Not really. It does not say that death shall never be used as a punishment, only that one should be absolutely certain that it is the right one. It advises caution.''

 

She chuckled softly and shook her head at the brunette. ''It is really more complex than that.''

 

''How so?'' It was a genuinely curious inquiry. Settling the debt without bloodshed had allowed both young women to relax and return to their more friendly interactions.

 

Clarke tilted her head, trying to find away to explain it simply. ''Well… It is about the fact that we are humans. We make mistakes, and we just can't see the place of every single thing in the grand scheme.''

 

Lexa just looked more confused by her attempt at an explanation.

 

She let out a small laugh and indicated her bed. ''Sit down, this might take a while. I am gonna have to give you a bit more context.''

 

She waited for Lexa to sit down and then settled herself comfortably in the chair next to the bed, after turning it so she could face the other woman.

 

''I told you the story in that book was about a mission. Well, basically, the mission is to destroy a ring. But the ring is unbreakable, so the only way to get rid of it is to travel to a very dangerous land and drop it in a volcano – a pit of melted stone.'' She added when she saw the confusion at the last word.

 

''Why is this ring so dangerous?'' Lexa asked curiously, leaning forward.

 

''Er… Let's just say it is a focus for many things, and that destroying it before the bad guys find it will prevent a lot of troubles. Anyway, when the hero finally reaches the pit, he no longer has the strength to throw the ring. I know, it sounds weird when you say it like that, but it makes a lot more sense when you read the whole story.''

 

''You said luck saved them all in the end.'' Lexa reminded her.

 

''Yes. But, let's backpedal to the quote first, okay?''

 

''Backpedal?''

 

''It means return on another, previous part of the story. Sorry.'' She said with a smile.

 

''Don't be. I might need those words when you start handing me books.''

 

''Right. So. The hero knows he and his companions are being followed by a… disgusting person, who killed and maimed many people without real cause and has lost all its humanity. He says to the eldest and wisest in the group that it would be justice and mercy to kill that creature.''

 

''He is right.'' Lexa affirmed, clearly enthralled by the story.

 

''And that is when the old man says the things I quoted, and advises him not to kill it.''

 

''And? What happens?''

 

''The hero gets separated from most of his companions. When the creature attacks him, he manages to convince it to guide him to the pit where the ring can be destroyed. And when he is out of strength, the creature steals the ring, then stumbles and falls in the pit with it.''

 

She let silence reign for a minute before concluding.

 

''If he had not shown the creature mercy, he would never have completed the mission, and many people would have died as a result.''

 

Lexa nodded slowly, but observed. ''But the creature betrayed him in the end. It served a purpose, but it still deserved death. Fate killed it, along with this ring.''

 

''True.'' Clarke conceded. ''But isn't Fate more likely to understand all the consequences than us humans?'' She argued.

 

''I suppose so. But how can you enforce the laws if there is no strong punishment for those who break them? What sort of world is it where good people can be killed but the bad ones will be spared?''

 

''You just have to come up with other forms of punishment. Like we did with Raven.''

 

Lexa shook her head sharply. ''No. That is very different. No lives were lost, and there had been no intent to harm. A man who kills innocents cannot be allowed to walk around the others in exchange of a few months of crafting.''

 

''And what happens when you make a mistake?'' Clarke pointed out. ''When you confuse an innocent for a murderer, and execute him? The old world is full of stories like that, because humans make mistakes. Over time, many countries favored life-long imprisonment over death penalties. The culprits often doing some tedious work for the rest of their lives.''

 

''It sounds like an interesting concept. But my people would never accept that. In a few decades, if the Coalition holds and the clans remain at peace… Maybe it would be something to move towards.'' The Commander stated thoughtfully. ''Though I am not sure an innocent person would prefer a lifetime of imprisonment over a relatively quick death, so it does not fully solve this justice issue.''

 

After a moment of silence, she added. ''If you have more stories and wisdoms like this one, would you agree to teach them to my _Natblidas_? The concepts you bring up should not be forgotten with my incarnation, so that one of my heirs may act on them when the opportunity arises.''

 

Clarke hesitated. ''Er… I guess I could. If they are good enough at reading, I could point out a few interesting books for them as well – as long as you have copies in your library.''

 

Lexa thanked her with a small smile, and Clarke couldn't help but smile back.

 

''While I am here, do you mind if I ask a few questions?'' The brunette asked her. ''Our deal is still going, right?''

 

She nodded in agreement.

 

Lexa smiled again, more widely. ''Before I entered your room, I overheard Raven talking about a 'hot chick'. I have never heard this combination of words. What does that mean?'' She inquired innocently.

 

Clarke felt herself blushing, and could not stop her eyes from wandering along the Commander's figure. She _was_ hot. But there was no way in hell she was going to answer this question.

 

''Next.'' She choked out, mentally swearing to hide all the books staged in the last century of the old world for safe measure.

 

Lexa almost protested, but Clarke shook her head vehemently. ''Next.'' She insisted.

 

''What is a mechanic, exactly?''

 

Clarke was surprised enough to push away her embarrassment. ''You agreed to the deal without knowing what a mechanic is?'' She wondered.

 

''Well, I understood that it was some sort of specialized craft, but I am unsure of how it would translate in _Trigedasleng_.''

 

''It means she can build or fix most things, er… technological? Machines from the old world?'' Clarke explained uncertainly. She had not seen any such things in the few villages she had been, so maybe they did not use them anymore. Or perhaps it was only in big cities like Polis…

 

Lexa frowned. ''The first Commander used such devices, but most were destroyed, or just stopped working by the time the second Commander ascended. My people have survived without those things, and many now distrust them because the _Maunon_ uses them. They have guns, and missiles that have killed many of my people.''

 

Clarke waved her hands reassuringly. ''Yeah, but it is not all bad. There are many devices that were used to help healers, for example, or to ease the work of craftsmen, or communicate over long distances instantly.'' She argued, determined to sell the good points to the Commander.

 

Otherwise, she feared the offer of Raven's expertise would be rejected, and she had no idea what the Latina could offer instead.

 

The Commander hummed, thinking. ''I can see the interest of such things, but it will need to be carefully regulated. Most of the old devices were moved to the underground levels of the city, as people disliked them and the metal was too weak to be turned into good weapons. Your friend will accompany me and identify what each device is for, and I will decide what is to be fixed.''

 

Clarke nodded eagerly, relieved. ''Sounds good. Though I warn you that some things may be beyond repair.''

 

''I would not ask for the impossible.'' Lexa smiled.

 

She smiled back at her and slumped more comfortably in the seat. It was much more comfortable than the steel chairs of the Ark. ''Other questions?''

 

She saw the brunette bit her lower lip as she hesitated. ''I fear this is one you will not want to answer.''

 

Clarke shrugged. ''I swear I won't take offense if it is. I'll just say no.''

 

Lexa nodded and straightened. ''This boy, Murphy, called you a Princess. But you claimed your people elected their leaders. So what does that title mean?'' She asked seriously.

 

Clarke burst out laughing, only now realizing the kind of confusion the nickname Finn had given her could create for the Commander. Her laughter died and her heart hurt a little as she thought of the boy. Raven had said he was killed. How many more of the Hundred had died while she was away?

 

Could she have saved them if she had stayed? Finn had been a cocky and foolish boy, and infuriating as he followed her around, but he was also kind, and had defended her against Bellamy along with Wells. She had certainly never wished him dead.

 

She gave the Commander an apologetic look.

 

''Sorry, I just did not expect that question. Princess is not a title at all. It is a nickname the others gave me, because my parents were important people on the Ark. Privileged, in a way. Really, this nickname was almost meant as an insult at first.''

 

''Oh.''

 

Clarke chuckled again. ''Sorry. I was a bit preoccupied then.'' She sobered. ''By the way, I am still waiting for what justice you will offer for Murphy. Your general had no right to torture him, he never hurt your people.''

 

The Commander's face became a mask. ''My general did what she believed was right for the safety of her people.'' She declared in a warning tone.

 

''So did Raven.'' Clarke pointed out in a harsh voice. ''And _she_ is paying the price for the consequences.''

 

''Are you going to ask for my general's life?'' The Commander asked.

 

And Clarke could see the pain and fear that she was trying to hide, but still shone in her green eyes. She would order Anya's death if it was necessary, she realized, but there was clearly a more personal relationship between the two as well.

 

Impulsively, Clarke grabbed Lexa's hand and rubbed it gently with her thumb. Softly, she replied.

 

''Murphy is not dead, and I think I have already explained that I do not care for this kind of punishments. I don't know him that well, but he has not had a great life so far, so I think it would be more than enough to offer him a new one. Preferably one where he can walk outside often, and be fed and treated correctly. He will probably be a sarcastic pain at first, but I think he can be loyal to someone who treats him right.''

 

Smiling, she concluded. ''If Raven can pay her debt through you, then I guess it would be acceptable for your general to do so as well. I'll leave you to decide her appropriate punishment.''

 

Lexa squeezed her hand briefly before retrieving it and folding both hands on her lap. ''Thank you, _Klark_.''

 

''Your general said the people from Mount Weather captured the others from the dropship. Clearly they did not take Raven because they couldn't save her, which means they need them alive for something. What do you know?'' She asked, worried.

 

The voice that answered her was apologetic. ''I told you before, the Mountain has captured my people for generations. The only ones we saw again were _Ripas_ , monsters. It is mercy to kill them to free them of their demons. I am sorry, _Klark_. Your companions are lost.''

 

She shook her head in denial. Monty. Octavia. Harper, and all the others. ''No. No. They need them alive, that means we can still rescue them. You said you wanted to destroy the threat of the Mountain one day, right? And you want me to be your 'Healing Nymph' or whatever? So help me rescue them!'' She begged.

 

The Commander stood from the bed. ''I am _Heda_. A leader. I cannot sacrifice hundreds of warriors in a lost battle, to rescue strangers. I am truly sorry, _Klark_. But destroying the Mountain is simply not possible for now. We cannot even approach it, because of the fog. And who is to say that your companions are still alive now? It has already been days since their capture. Planning any kind of attack would take days, if not weeks or months. What are the odds of them still being breathing by the time we get to them, if we ever manage to enter the Mountain?''

 

She shook her head sadly. ''I am sorry, _Klark_. I cannot rescue your companions, and I will not allow you to try on your own either.'' The brunette turned and walked towards the door as she finished her sentence.

 

Clarke bristled, seeing red. ''And why the hell not? You do not own me! Give me one reason why I should need your permission to go against the Mountain? They can't kill me!'' She reminded Lexa.

 

The Commander turned on her heels to face her, and took a few steps until she towered over her, making Clarke regret that she had not stood up earlier. She contented herself with glaring up at the brunette.

 

''Because you are the 'Healing Nymph'! Whatever you do, Some of my people will follow you! If you go against the Mountain, they will follow! Do you want their deaths on your conscience?'' Lexa asked her, harshly.

 

Clarke deflated and sagged in the chair. ''No. I don't.'' She whispered, ashamed. ''But if the Ark never comes down, they are all that is left of my people. I can't just abandon them.'' She gripped tightly on the armrests to hide the quivering of her limbs.

 

Lexa softened. ''I understand. But as a leader, you must learn to choose your battles. I will let you search for a way to contact the Ark, and provide you with whatever you need to accomplish that purpose, on three conditions.'' She offered.

 

Clarke felt a small hope spark in her chest. ''Tell me.''

 

''One, no harm must come to my people as a result of your attempts – that includes your Ark falling to the ground and landing on one of my villages. Two, I do not want your people to invade mine, so you must promise that you will act as an ambassador between your leaders and myself until we come to some agreement. No matter how long this process proves to be.'' She paused. ''And three, you will remain in Polis, in this Tower, until it is done.''

 

Clarke could not refrain a scowl at the last condition. ''Why? Because you need your 'Healing Nymph' to keep assassins at bay?''

 

''I will not deny this is a part of my motives in asking. But mostly because I fear that you will try to rescue your old companions despite my warnings. Besides, you promised to sort the books from the library and teach some lessons to the _Natblidas_. And this 'Healing Nymph' status you seem to despise will serve to protect you and your friends.''

 

''Yes, but I never said _when_.'' Clarke argued, even though she knew it was pointless. ''As for my friends, aren't you the one who claimed that loving people put them at risk?''

 

''It will still be safer than being seen as an invader in a land of warriors.''

 

''Point taken.'' Clarke accepted with a grimace. ''I will probably need Raven's help to contact the Ark. And if the Mountain uses technology to defend itself, we might be able to help with that.'' She tried.

 

That seemed to give the Commander pause. ''I had not thought of that. I will consult you and your companions about the Mountain, and if you can use technology to learn about them without provoking them – much like they seem to observe us – I will allow it. But it doesn't mean I will focus on staging a possibly meaningless rescue, _Klark_. If at some point I believe we can attack the Mountain and win, I will attack. If your people are still alive then, I will be happy for you. But I cannot make their lives my purpose. Otherwise, I would be constantly attacking the Mountain to rescue my own people.'' She chided firmly but kindly.

 

Clarke sighed and nodded. ''I understand. And thank you, for letting me do what I can to save at least some of my people. The Hundred – my former companions – are closer, but there are over two thousands still in the Ark. I should focus on that.'' She grudgingly admitted.

 

She rose to her feet. ''For the record, I still hate that 'Healing Nymph' title.'' She stated.

 

Lexa shook her head – almost fondly Clarke thought. ''And I still don't understand why. You earned it, after all.''

 

''I don't want to be worshiped. I am a healer. I don't do this to gain something. I did nothing to have this ability, unlike you – I was just born with it.''

 

The brunette tilted her head. ''It was still your choice to use it to save others. Aren't you glad that they admire you, rather than fear you for your strangeness? Wasn't that fear the reason you and your ancestors kept it mostly hidden?''

 

''I wish it wasn't one or the other. It is… part of the whole thing, really. Throughout history in the old world, people like me were uncomfortable when others tried to worship them. Accepting gifts for healing makes me feel uneasy, but when they just ask for a blessing… My words don't mean anything, they won't protect them. It feels like a… fraud.'' She tried to explain.

 

''But now that the title exists, will you help me stabilize the Coalition and its peace by not denying it? I am not asking you to accept the offerings or encourage it in anyway. Just to protect me if I ever need it, as well as the _Natblidas_.''

 

She waved around to show the richly furnished room. ''These rooms are intended for the personal healer of the _Heda_ and her _Natblidas_. It has stood empty for a long time, because my people do not have many healers, and Polis has been a mostly safe city since the third Commander, so the need for a healer so close at hand was slight.''

 

Clarke found herself staring back at green eyes when the brunette focused back on her as she continued. ''Healing, however, will not be your sole duty. There will be the books, and the lessons, and your duty to your own people. And I suspect many will apply for your talents, if you allow it.'' Lexa detailed.

 

Clarke grinned. ''Basically, you will keep me busy enough not to leave Polis?'' She mused. ''Okay, I accept. At least until the people from the Ark come down.'' She cautioned.

 

''It is agreed.'' Lexa confirmed with a smile and a small sigh of relief.

 

''Were you worried I would refuse?'' Clarke teased.

 

''I have spent enough time with you to know that I should never presume to know what to expect.''

 

She shook her head. '' _Reshop, Heda_. I am sure we can work out my timetable tomorrow.''

 

Lexa nodded. '' _Reshop, Klark_.''


	9. Of stories and children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still Clarke's POV, as she settles in Polis.  
> Enjoy!

Tired from the day of riding and the discussions, Clarke decided against exploring the tower before going to sleep. She was curious to see how such a tall building had survived both the bombs and time, but she was simply too exhausted to do so right now.

 

She looked around her rooms, now noticing a few details that made sense with their being intended for a healer. There was a small alcove lined with shelves with empty bocals and bowls – most likely to store and mix medicines – as well as a chest filled with bandages and surprisingly sharp basic surgery tools. The walls holding the windows were made of concrete, but seemed to have been strengthened with wood and some sort of mortar. And the glass of the windows was simply absent – probably blown by the bombs decades ago. Meaning that the room was definetely well aired. Probably too well for Clarke's taste, in fact.

 

Leaning through the opening, she noticed wooden panels that were clearly meant to close the hole and she sighed in relief.

 

The rest of the rooms consisted of a space with a wooden tub, the bed, and a small work-space next to the alcove. She noticed that some thin plaster walls had been torn down, and replaced with thick, wooden ones to rearrange the original layout of the building. She wondered if some levels had remained mostly unchanged – she was curious of what the building was in the old world.

 

It took Clarke some long minutes to figure out how the panels closing the windows worked. If she was sleeping inside concrete and wooden walls, it was not to feel the wind on her face all night. She finally located a small rope tied to the side that allowed her to pull the panels without leaning dangerously out of the frame. The fall was quite high, and though she could probably survive it, it would be a painful experience and certainly not how she envisioned her evening.

 

And she would have to climb stairs the whole way back to her room, because the warriors had warned her that the elevator was not running after dark, except for emergencies.

 

Once she secured the panels, she felt the temperature of the room rise quickly. It was still chilly, but no longer cold, and she now had enough experience with furs to know that she would not be freezing as she slept.

 

Moreover, this agreement with Lexa, and the fates of Raven and Murphy, meant that she no longer felt guilty of accepting the Commander's hospitality. She would not be basking in luxury for nothing, she would work on significant tasks while attempting to save her people.

 

Because, she begrudgingly admitted, Lexa was right: she should focus on the Ark first, though she would not abandon those taken by the Mountain either. She admitted that she could not rush there as she wanted to, but with Raven's and – hopefully soon – the Ark's help, it should be possible to save them. She just had to pray that they would remain alive until then. But if the Mountain wanted corpses, they would have taken Raven as well, so there was hope.

 

There had to be.

 

She rummaged the chests that had been brought in when Lexa left for the night, and that contained clothes for her. She eventually found something that resembled a nightgown. She stripped off her dirty clothes, throwing them in a corner of the room, and pulled the nightgown over her head.

 

She walked to the bed and settled between the furs with a sigh of contentment. She was still worried about the others, but having a clear plan eased her mind. She no longer had to worry about her, or Raven's and Murphy's survival and comfort, and she could still try to save her people. She had Lexa's support, and she was happy that the friendship she had started to develop with the brunette could continue.

 

A small draft caught her uncovered foot, and Clarke buried herself further under the furs in a fetal position. She was comfortably warm and soon fell asleep.

 

She was awaken by the sunlight seeping through the one window that was not covered by a wooden panel, but was sealed with thick tarnished glass. Groggily, she pushed down the furs and shuddered at the unexpected coolness of the room.

 

She was unsure of when people usually rose in this Tower, so she quietly dressed in some of the clothes she found in the chest – secretly delighted to wear clean clothes for the day – and settled at the desk where she had abandoned her bag. She quickly sorted her belongings, leaving the furs in the bag that she suspended on a corner of the bed frame, putting away her healing herbs on the shelves, and delicately putting her old wristband on the side of the desk. It would serve as a reminder of her purpose – unless Raven needed it, of course.

 

That done, she listened carefully to the noises of the floor, even going as far as to put her ear against the doors. Nothing. Shrugging, she decided that she must have risen early and carried some blank sheets of paper to the desk to get started of those plant drawings she had promised Asbrem. The paper was a bit coarse, compared to the Ark's plastic sheets, but she quickly got used to it and even enjoyed the feel of the natural material.

 

It was liberating, to be drawing again. She had doodled some animals in that first village, and charcoaled a few more in a couple of caves, but it had been a while since she had been able to just _draw_. Soon, she put aside the plants drawings and let her hands sketch whatever they wanted.

 

An hour later, an insistent knock on the door pulled her from her trance.

 

''Come in!'' She called absently, soothing the lines of the clouds in her sketch of Polis.

 

She was drawing the city as she had first seen it, nestled in the plains and framed by orchards. She only regretted the lack of colors, since she only had pens that were apparently made of charcoal mixed with some other ingredients that resulted in something similar to a pencil from the old world.

 

''Your guards informed me that you were awake.''

 

Clarke put her pen down and turned in her chair.

 

''Lexa. Good morning.''

 

The brunette was studying the drawings of plants that she had set aside.

 

''You work fast.'' She commented. ''I will escort Raven in the basements after breakfast, and wondered if you would accompany us. I could use your input, you know more about those broken devices than I. Then I was hoping we could go to the families of the burned village. I will show you the library this afternoon.''

 

Clarke stood and brushed her hands together to rid them of the dark powder.

 

''Sounds great to me. Is that to be my schedule, then? Healing and Commander stuff in the morning, book sorting in the afternoon?'' She asked.

 

''Most likely, if it suits you. I might call on you for lessons in the afternoon from time to time, and you may search for a way to contact your people in the mornings as well. You need not take all the work away from my healers.'' She replied.

 

Clarke smiled as she followed the Commander out of the room. ''I was thinking that I should keep my… talents for injuries or illnesses that are beyond your healers medicine, like I did in the village. But I would not mind giving them a hand when they are overworked.'' She offered.

 

They worked out the details of such a schedule as they ate, and Clarke unsuccessfully argued against having guards following her whenever she left the Tower.

 

''I know you are resilient, _Klark_ , but I will not take the risk. And people need to know that you are protected by _Heda_.'' Lexa had stated in a tone that brook no further argument, and Clarke had given up with a sigh.

 

Soon, they picked up Raven – who had apparently talked to Murphy about the previous night and hugged Clarke as soon as she saw her, thanking her for healing her back – and hurried to the basements with a few warriors carrying torches.

 

Clarke could not help but laugh at Raven's excitement when she saw all the old machines. The Latina was running from one device to the next with squeals of delight alternated by admonitions at a dumb-founded Commander for not taking proper care of such 'wonderful babies'.

 

Eventually, the Commander settled on asking Raven to fix and upgrade a few radios, repair an ultrasound machine – at Clarke's insistent begging – and Lexa expressed an interest in an old printer when Raven proposed to convert it in a copy machine, to make accurate and quick copies of anything. They carefully marked which devices would need to be brought up, and Raven walked in front of the group with a spring in her step, cradling and cooing to two broken radios as if they were infants.

 

Clarke had to suppress her grin at how disturbed Lexa seemed by the whole scene. She supposed such love of an object appeared extremely weird to _Heda_ – and Raven was quite extreme.

 

Raven was escorted back to her rooms by two guards while the rest escorted Clarke and their Commander to another part of the city. Unfortunately, this made them very visible, and a crowd was soon hovering around them, shouts of greetings to _Heda_ always interrupting whatever conversation they tried to have.

 

It was Lexa who explained, in a formal but somehow compassionate _T_ _rigedasleng_ , what had been agreed upon to the families. Clarke could only catch a few disconnected words, and promised herself to learn more of the language – she was obviously going to be in the Commander's capitol for a while.

 

The families appeared satisfied by the arrangement, and the healing was not overly tiring for Clarke. In fact, she was mostly made uncomfortable by the ever watching crowd. Even in the village, she had only had the patient's family as spectators – and Lexa, of course. Here, though, she felt excessively on display but a glance at the houses – with doors and large windows wide open despite the coolness of the air – informed her that there would be no privacy, even inside.

 

She felt ravenous by the time they returned to the Tower and settled down for lunch, and glared at the brunette when she chuckled at the way she was inhaling her food.

 

''You do not have to work with the books if you feel too tired. I will understand.'' She offered seriously when the meal was over.

 

''I will be fine. Reading relaxes me anyway.''

 

Lexa shook her head, disbelief clear on her face. ''This way, then.''

 

It really only deserved the appellation of library because of the sheer number of books the room contained. There were a few shelves, but most were empty. Instead, the books were piled up on tables and on the floor, or thrown haphazardly in wooden crates. Clarke's jaw dropped at the sight.

 

''Ever heard of organization?'' She asked in a weak voice.

 

Lexa laughed softly. ''I thought that was why you were here?'' She paused and continued more seriously. ''I know it is a mess. The books on the shelves are those already sorted by previous _Fleimkeepas_ or _Hedas_ , so you need not worry about those. The criterias of sorting are simple: anything that can be useful is put on the shelves on the right side of the room, the rest on the left. Imaginary stories on the bottom, and manuals or similar books are on the top shelves. I would like to hear of what you have found once a week, or more often if you are unsure of the value of a particular book.''

 

Clarke looked around the room again. ''Do I have to stay in this room to read? I mean, I can sort quickly all the books I have already read on the Ark, but there are no chairs here, and I don't like to read while standing.''

 

''No, I don't expect you to spend your afternoons locked up in here. Just take a few books to your room or wherever you want to read.'' Lexa reassured her.

 

Clarke nodded. ''Good. Task seems less daunting that way. I guess I should get started, then. If I don't return to my room by nightfall, please send a guard to make sure I am not buried somewhere under a toppled pile of dusty books?'' She half-joked as she started reading the titles of the books from the nearest pile.

 

She heard Lexa leave the room, and after some hesitation, decided to pre-sort all the books by categories – novels, manuals, encyclopedias and so on. It would give her the opportunity to browse through everything and isolate books she already knew.

 

And she hoped to find a copy of the _Lord of the Rings_ for the Commander.

 

With a grin, she started emptying a crate.

 

A few hours later, she had barely gone through half of the crates and had not yet touched the books piled on the floor or the tables. Still, she was satisfied to see the shelves filling up. Since the sun was slowly setting, she decided that she was done for the day, and grabbed the four books she had set aside on her way out. She had stumbled upon a crate filled with novels – she suspected that a full rack of fantasy and sci-fi books had been directly emptied in the box and brought here – and had found an old, illustrated edition of the trilogy along with a copy of _The Hobbit_.

 

That would keep Lexa busy for a while, and give her time to make a list of other interesting books.

 

She returned to her room, enjoyed a bath – the books were really dusty, and she felt even more dirty than after a full day on the road – and put on a comfortable nightgown. Then, she settled back at her desk to continue her drawings, forcing herself to work on the plants for a while before returning to her more recreational ones.

 

By the time a shy girl knocked on her door to ask if she wanted to have her food brought up to her room – to which she acquiesced – she had finished her drawing of Polis and was working on one of Lexa staring at the night sky by a camp fire. She decided to take a break while she waited for the food.

 

Her gaze fell on her old wristband, and she absently fingered her father's watch as she thought back to her discussion with Raven this morning.

 

She had finally been able to find out some of what happened after she left. Bellamy had basically been the same bully leader until Raven's arrival in a patched up pod. Unfortunately, Bellamy had been the first to arrive, and he had taken away the radio, crushed it and thrown the pieces in a nearby stream. Finn had found Raven shortly after, still unconscious. Given that he had not hesitated to kill her – well, try – Clarke was unsure whether Bellamy had spared Raven or thought her already dead when he found her unconscious with a bleeding head wound.

 

Regardless, Raven had joined the others at the dropship, and had been pretty miffed about her lost radio. She had told the delinquents that the council was about to kill three hundred people, and those who still had a family on the Ark helped her make two flares in hope of warning the Ark that they were still alive – Monty's last attempt to contact the Ark had fried all the wristbands a few days ago.

 

Unfortunately, the shooting stars that night proved that no one saw their flares, or that it was dismissed as insufficient, or simply too late. Raven had tried to build a radio, but too many parts were missing, lost during re-entry. She also strongly disliked Bellamy and had openly opposed him, blaming him for the three hundred deads.

 

When Octavia went missing, Finn had accompanied Bellamy and returned with a dagger in the chest. They had tried to save him, but he bled to death minutes after they had pulled out the knife. Bellamy tortured the grounder that had captured Octavia and killed Finn – which was the only time Raven had agreed with the annoying bully. A few days later, Octavia had used the opportunity of everyone being high on some nuts to break the grounder out. She had disappeared with him.

 

Bellamy had gone crazy when he discovered his sister had left, convinced the grounder had captured her again when he escaped – though Raven saw them leaving the camp with Octavia supporting the grounder's weight, so obviously she had gone away willingly. When Raven disagreed with sending another search party – she didn't want anyone else to die like Finn – he had threatened her with his gun, and eventually shot her when she literally turned her back on him.

 

Then cans releasing a red smoke popped in the camp, and Raven only remembered crawling to the dropship and being found by Anya and other grounders. The rest of her trip to Polis were vague images of Murphy, trees and other faces until she woke up in Clarke's room.

 

Before she ran to her room with her new 'babies', Lexa had agreed that the mechanic could start with the radios and attempt to contact the Ark. So there was nothing more Clarke could do for that at this point.

 

Her food arrived, and Clarke took her time to savor it, since her afternoon had been a lot less draining than the healing of this morning. She enjoyed the variety of flavors and textures, noting that even the meats did not all have the same taste. She would have to ask the names of all that.

 

Once she was done, she exited her room to inquire where she was supposed to bring the dishes. At a sign from one of the warriors guarding her rooms – she pitied them, really, their job had to be the most boring one in the whole city – a girl immediately ran up to her, bowed and took the plates from her before she could say anything.

 

With a shake of her head, she asked if she could see _Heda_ , to report on her progress. A warrior nodded and marched down the hall to present her request to the Commander.

 

He soon returned and bowed to her as he informed her.

 

'' _Heda_ is with the _Natblidas_ for the rest of the evening. She will hear your report tomorrow morning, Nymph.''

 

Clarke nodded and returned to her room, ignoring the pang of disappointment at fact that she would not see Lexa tonight. Of course the Commander had many duties. Why did she care if she would not see Lexa before going to sleep? She had no reason to expect to.

 

And she really shouldn't want to. Right?

 

The Commander was kind, even if she wore a stoic mask and had proven herself to be a ruthless leader. She was fair, and open-minded. Certainly not what Clarke would have imagined with the harsh way of life she had witnessed on the ground, or what she had grown to expect from Jaha and most of the Council.

 

And, lastly, she was not an enemy. She had feared that Lexa's orders and her former companions' stupidity would end with both of them in opposing camp – there was no way Clarke would betray her mother and father, and that meant protecting the Ark. But now, those fears had been put to rest. She could stop seeing Lexa as a potential enemy.

 

She returned to her desk and her drawing of Lexa, tracing the curve of the woman's jaw with a finger. Her face was an odd mix of serious and relax, staring at the stars. Again, Clarke wished she had colors to capture the scene better – the green of her eyes, the red light of the fire reflected on her tan skin…

 

She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Lexa had closed herself after the loss of her lover. She was probably not ready for a relationship, even if there actually was some attraction. And Clarke would probably leave once the Ark came down. Not to mention the possible complications of a relationship between a sort-of ambassador and the Commander.

 

Really, it would be better if this was just a strong friendship with a ridiculously attractive _Heda_.

 

Frustrated, Clarke decided to just go to bed – it was a bit early but she had four Tolkien books. She closed the panels and prepared everything so that she was sitting against the head of the bed, with a fur over her legs, and a candle on the side table for light.

 

After several minutes, she glared at her candle. The damn thing kept fluttering despite the shut windows, and the constant movement made shadows appear on the pages. She threw away the fur and went to check the windows, pulling on the panels to see if she had failed to secure them shut. None budged.

 

With a grunt, she returned to her bed and resumed her reading. Her candle fluttered again, and she let out a low growl of frustration. Abandoning the book, she took the candle and approached the windows, watching the flame to find were exactly the annoying draft was coming from. She still had a few rabbit furs that she could shove in any hole she found.

 

Her inspection of the windows gave nothing, so she moved to the door. Nothing either.

 

Now strangely excited by the mystery, she started stalking the walls of her room, slowly moving her candle up and down and knocking lightly on the wooden walls. After several minutes, she was rewarded with a hollow sound and a flattened flame. She put her candle down on a nearby stool, and ran her fingers softly along the wall, trying to find the limits of the concealed door.

 

Her left hand eventually caught on a knot and, after some experimenting, she pulled on it with her nails and felt the panel give way. Grinning she pushed against it and soon found herself staring at a dark, narrow corridor. The secret door was even more narrow, and Clarke was glad for her small frame that allowed her to walk in without having to shuffle sideways. She chuckled as she imagined a man like Gustus trying to pass through the tiny door.

 

Wondering where the passage led and why it was here in the first place, and not feeling the slightest bit tired in the face of the unexpected enigma, she pulled the tool to block the panel – just in case – and looked around for another candle-holder.

 

Finding none, she decided to leave the candle on the stool so that she would not get lost, and just explore a few meters tonight. She would find more candles and holders tomorrow to explore without having hot wax trickling on her fingers.

 

She carefully stepped in the passage and put a hand on each wall, slightly ahead of her. She advanced for a few meters until she felt her right hand leave the wall. She stopped and stirred the air a little to confirm that she had reached some crossroad. With a glance over her shoulder to check that her candle still had some wax, she decided to try her luck this way. She would turn back if she felt that she was going too far, or could no longer see the light from her room.

 

She had barely taken two steps along the new corridor when the floor disappeared from under her feet and she tumbled down the unexpected stairs.

 

She screamed and tried to catch onto something to break her fall, but the walls were smooth. She felt her chest collide harshly with the angle of a stair and grunted in pain when a couple ribs cracked. She rolled down the rest of the way and landed badly on her right arm while her head hit the wall. She swore loudly.

 

The wall suddenly opened on her right and she moaned in pain when she tumbled into a room, landing on her broken arm – her doctor kicking in and informing her that the bones had moved, so she would need to set them to heal faster.

 

A hand grabbed her shoulder and pressed her to the floor, a dagger against her neck. She froze, and raised her head to meet surprised green eyes.

 

'' _Klark_? What are you doing here?'' Lexa asked, slowly releasing her and putting away her dagger.

 

She sat up, wheezing as her ribs tingled in healing. With a grimace, she poked and prodded her right arm with her left hand to push the bones back in proper position, gritting her teeth, before she answered.

 

''I found this door in my room. Felt like exploring, but didn't see the stairs. Where am I, exactly?''

 

She stood and looked around, finally noticing the tensed fair-haired boy and the dark-haired, slightly younger girl that observed her from behind Lexa. Both couldn't be older than twelve or eleven years old. She also noted that the children had assumed defensive fighting stances, but were currently staring at her arm.

 

Clarke took a deep breath, content to feel that her ribs were healed and the air flowed easily through her lungs.

 

''I take it these children are your _Natblidas_? Why is there a secret passage from my room to here?'' She asked Lexa.

 

The brunette gave her a stern look. ''Do you realize how disturbing it is to see you set your own arm while talking?''

 

''Er, sorry. Between that and the ribs, I felt a little uncomfortable.'' Clarke blushed. She hoped she had not traumatized the children. She had not meant to.

 

Lexa shook her head exasperatedly. ''I planned to introduce you tomorrow.''

 

She turned towards the two children who had relaxed in more normal positions. '' _Klark_ , may I introduce Aden and Strina. They are the oldest of my Nightbloods. This is their room. The younger ones are all in the room next door. This whole floor is reserved to the _Natblidas_.''

 

Clarke smiled apologetically. ''Sorry to intrude.''

 

Lexa addressed the children. '' _Klark_ is the Healing Nymph. She is the one who will heal you if you are injured in training – or for any other reason – and she will also give you a few lessons soon. She has knowledge from the old world that could be useful for a _Heda_ to know.''

 

They both nodded at her and Aden added. ''I want to thank you, Healing Nymph, for saving _Heda Leksa_. I am happy the Spirit sent you.''

 

Clarke grimaced at the title.''Please, if I am gonna give you lessons, just call me Clarke. I have never been one for pompous ceremony. I am just a healer.''

 

She turned to Lexa. ''So, what is that secret stairway again?'' She asked expectantly.

 

She watched as the brunette sighed and mumbled. ''I had actually forgotten about that.'' Louder, she continued. ''I told you your rooms were designed for _Heda's_ personal healer. At first, Polis was not a safe city, and assassination attempts were plentiful. The First Commander had few warriors and advisors she could trust. So, this passage was built to ensure that the healer would always be able to reach the _Natblidas_ or _Heda_ if need be, even if the corridors were invaded by enemies. Also, it ensures that we all have a discreet way out if either floor is occupied by enemies.''

 

The Commander's brow furrowed as she seemed to consider something. ''That is only your second night here. How did you find the door?'' She mused, impressed.

 

Clarke shrugged. ''I was reading the books I intended to give you tomorrow, and a draft kept messing with my candle. So I investigated.'' She said simply.

 

''You must not reveal it to anyone – not even your friends or any of my ambassadors or advisors. Even _Fleimkeepas_ are not told of this passage.'' Lexa warned her.

 

''I won't.'' Clarke promised. ''I guess I should close the panel in my room, in case someone comes in.'' She realized.

 

Lexa smiled. ''No one is allowed to enter your room without your authorization.''

 

Clarke gave her a disbelieving look. ''You did last night.''

 

''I am _Heda_.'' She stated smugly.

 

''Right.'' She said, rolling her eyes. ''So, evening lessons?'' She asked enthusiastically, turning to smile at the two children. ''How is it going?''

 

Lexa shook her head and affectionately ruffled Aden's hair while smiling at the girl. ''No lessons this time. I haven't had time to visit them yesterday, so I did tonight. The younger ones are already in bed and asleep – I hope – and I was simply telling Aden and Strina about my trip to the border. And about the Nymph I met on the way back to Polis.''

 

Lexa went to sit on one of the bed, and the children sat side by side on the other one. Strina turned to Clarke and asked.

 

''You said you were reading?'' She sounded surprised. Clarke guessed that Lexa had not yet explained all her 'duties' to the Nightbloods – she had interrupted them with her impromptu entry.

 

'' _Heda_ asked me to sort the books from the library. My people could not run or train to pass the time because the place where we lived was too tiny for that. So we spent a lot of time reading, or playing chess and other board games.'' She explained as she went to sit besides Lexa.

 

''Chess?'' Aden asked, confused.

 

She supposed it would make sense for most board games to have disappeared if so few people could read.

 

''It is a strategy game. I think you would like it actually. If I can find a flat piece of wood and carve some pawns, I will teach you. If you want, that is. The rules are very simple, it is all about figuring out the opponent's strategy and countering him. There used to be tournaments in the old world, and we had some in the Ark as well.'' She related, smiling softly at the memory of all the matches she had had with Wells.

 

It would be nice to play again. She felt like she owed it to him to ensure his favorite game survived the apocalypse.

 

''It sounds like a good exercise.'' Lexa admitted. ''I will ask for wood to be brought to you. Just give me the sizes of the pieces of wood you will need. It might be a good first lesson for the Nightbloods.''

 

The children seemed more at ease in her presence than when she had first arrived. Aden smiled at her and asked what she had been reading.

 

Clarke grinned. ''The first volume of the _Lord of the Rings_. I have been telling your _Heda_ about it, actually.''

 

Lexa stared at her. ''Is that where all your quotes come from?''

 

''Basically. Thought you would be interested in reading it.''

 

The other woman nodded hesitantly. ''I would, but… you said _first_ volume? How many are there?''

 

Clarke smirked. ''Three. But that is only the main story. There are a few more books about how the world works, what all the characters went through, and so on.'' She paused. ''Actually, there is one book that is more intended as a bedside story.''

 

''A bedside story?'' Strina frowned, confused by the expression.

 

''In the old world, it was a tradition to read a story to children until they fell asleep.'' She explained. ''This story is a tale, of sort. With epic battles and a lesson about duty and peace.'' She added with a grin, knowing this would peek their interest. The kids were openly admiring their _Heda_.

 

Timidly and glancing at Lexa in case she objected, Aden asked. ''Will you read it to us, then?''

 

She look at Lexa to ensure the woman agreed – the kids were her responsibility, after all – and smiled when she saw her nod, clearly as eager as the kids to hear the story.

 

''Well, if you lend me a candle, I can run to my room and be back with the book in a minute. I don't fancy breaking my ribs again on the way back.'' She joked. ''But if we do this, we do it properly.'' She warned. ''So, you kids get in bed, and _Heda_ and I will sit in the chairs, by the beds.''

 

The children jumped from the bed while Lexa dragged the chairs closer, and Clarke made her way to the still open passage after grabbing a candle. She quickly made her way back to her room, located the book and returned to the Nightbloods' bedroom after closing the panel to her own room – just in case.

 

She settled herself in a chair between the two beds, with Lexa sitting by her side and slightly behind her. She suspected the brunette to want to try and read over her shoulder.

 

''The title of the book is: _The Hobbit, or there and back again_.'' She stated before she opened the book and started reading aloud under the delighted and shining eyes of the two children. Her heart panged at the idea that they had never experienced a moment like this before, so she made sure to mimic the voices for the dialogues and show them the images whenever there were some. She also promised herself to have a catch-up sessions with the younger kids, and then continue reading to them every night if Lexa allowed it – and annoy the hell out of her until she relented in case she refused.

 

Strina was the first to fall asleep, but Aden's eyes were already drowsy. Clarke lowered her voice to a whisper and slowed her reading until the boy gave in and fell asleep. Then, Lexa and her rose slowly and silently made their way to the secret stairs.

 

Clarke waited until the panel was closed and they had climbed half the stairs to ask. ''Aren't you supposed to leave through the usual corridor? The guards will know something is up if you never leave the Nightbloods quarters.'' She pointed out.

 

Lexa shook her head. ''I already left. I came back through this corridor. Titus disapproves of _Hedas_ spending so much… personal time with the _Natblidas_ , but it is a tradition. When I was a child, the previous _Heda_ would often visit us before we went to sleep.'' She said with a fond smile.

 

''Does that mean I can continue reading the story to them? And to the younger kids, too?''

 

''I am sure they would enjoy it if you did. It is impressive how easily you can read the story.'' She commented.

 

''Like I said, there wasn't much else to do but read on the Ark.'' Clarke stated modestly.

 

''So, it is merely a matter of practice?'' Lexa prodded almost nervously.

 

''Yeah. Honestly, the three books I want to give you first are not the easiest ones. And there are parts that are… well, boring. You can skip those parts to focus on the story. And I will explain any word you don't understand – some were already old-fashioned before the bombs.'' She reassured the woman.

 

''Thank you.''

 

''That aside, can you show me how to open the doors from the inside? I don't want to be stuck in this corridor all night.'' Clarke asked meekly.

 

Lexa followed her to her room and pointed to the mechanism, showing her where to push to disengage the panel and open it. ''The mechanism is the same for all the doors. The stairs leads to the Nightbloods floor – as you found out – and if you just walk straight you will find my personal rooms. Some of the children sometimes come to me in the middle of the night, after a nightmare. They might come to you as well, once they grow comfortable with you. I can tell them not to.''

 

Clarke shook her head. ''Don't. I know it is your ways, but I find it disturbing to see young children training for battle. I won't deprive them of what little childhood they have left.'' She stated.

 

''Aden and Strina loved what you did tonight.''

 

''I liked doing it.'' She replied.

 

She invited Lexa into her room with a wave and grabbed the book that was still lying on her bed where she had abandoned it to investigate the annoying draft. She stared at it for a while.

 

''Actually, if you are not too tired, there is another story I would like to share with you.'' She stated.

 

The brunette glanced at the thick volumes and then back at her. ''Don't you think you have already given me enough reading for now?'' She asked uncertainly.

 

Clarke sat on her bed and took a deep breath. ''It's not a book. It's how I came to be on the ground.''


	10. Bloody politics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be in Lexa's POV.  
> Enjoy!

The Commander froze, listening intently.

  


Clarke avoided her gaze and played with the furs with her left hand, still holding the book in her right hand. ''I fear this will change what you think of me, and of my people. But I'd rather you hear it from me than from someone else.'' She explained.

  


Wordlessly, Lexa sat in the chair, facing her. When Clarke remained silent, she finally pspoke up. ''I will try to keep an open mind, and I will listen to your whole story before I form my opinion.''

  


''Thanks.''

  


She paused, unsure how to begin. She put aside the book and settled cross-legged on top of the bed.

  


''As I told you, my parents were important people on the Ark. My mother was the chief of the healers, and was part of the Council, one of the elected leaders. My father was not a leader, but he was chief of the engineers, so he was often consulted.''

  


''A little over a year ago, my father discovered that something was seriously wrong with the filtering system – that is the tea leaves problem I already explained. He ran several diagnosis, until he came to the final conclusion that the Ark had roughly a year and a half of air left, and that there was no way for us to fix the problem. I overheard him discussing it with my mother, and soon the three of us agreed that we should warn the people. We hoped that with everyone working on the problem, we might find another solution – even if it was only to decide who to save and who to sacrifice. It didn't seem right to let such a decision solely in the hands of the Council.''

  


''My father tried to convince the Chancellor to announce the problem, but he refused. Elections were approaching, and he feared he would lose the position if he made such an announcement before the people voted. He threatened my father, so my dad recorded what he wanted to tell the people and gave the message to my mother to hide it. Then he asked my mother to denounce him to the Chancellor.''

  


She avoided the brunette's eyes, aware of the hypocrisy of her next words. ''You see, on the Ark, all crimes are punished by death, no matter how small. By asking my mother to denounce him, my father ensured that she would be spared. He was arrested and executed before my eyes.''

  


''I was under eighteen, which means that, by law, they couldn't execute me – not until I reached that age, at least. But the Chancellor suspected that I knew what my father planned, so he put me in prison. And to make sure I wouldn't tell anyone about the oxygen problem, I was put in solitary. For eleven month, I wasn't allowed to see or talk to anyone. The guards gave me my meals through a flap in the door, when they didn't just steal it. My mother managed to give me charcoals to paint, as well as digital books, so I wouldn't go crazy.''

  


''I knew the Council would probably execute me as soon as I turned eighteen, unless my mother released my father's message before my birthday. But then she would probably be executed herself, and there was no guarantee it would spare me.''

  


''When my cell door opened a month before my birthday, I was convinced they were going to execute me early, that they had found some loophole that allowed them to or that they discovered the tape my mother had hidden.''

  


''Turns out, the Council had decided to see if the ground was survivable. But since they expected it not to be, they chose to send all the kids that were in prison. That is what the Hundred are – delinquents. A few committed real crimes, like murder or even rape. But most, like Murphy, just stole food to survive. Or punched a guard when they dragged their parents to execution.''

  


''Even if we didn't survive, sending us down meant them had one more month to come up with a solution. That's what we were. Lab rats. Sacrifices. Knowing the Council, I am pretty sure they didn't warn the families of the kids – for those that still had one.''

  


She had spent the whole time staring at the floor, afraid she would not be able to finish the story if she saw the disapproval on Lexa's face. She had tried to be as matter of fact as possible, but knew the Commander must have perceived the bitterness in her voice several times. Now, she was unable to raise her head, so she just waited for Lexa to say _something_.

  


''I was right. Your system of electing leaders is a bad one.'' She eventually said.

  


Clarke's head snapped up. ''Er… Yeah?'' She eloquently tried.

  


Lexa smiled softly. ''I cannot blame you for wanting to protect your people. I am… uneasy knowing that Murphy once stole, but it sounds like food was much rarer than here. I have not forgotten Raven's story either. I will watch him closely, and certainly not tolerate such behavior if he displays it again, but I believe this past crime can be… ignored, given the circumstances.''

  


''I thank you, _Klark_ , for sharing your story with me. I assure you it has not lessened the respect I have for you. Quite the opposite in fact.'' She concluded.

  


Lexa rose from her seat and locked her green eyes with Clarke's. ''And I promise that, once everything is settled between your people and mine, you will always be welcomed here, if you do not wish to return serve a leader that discarded you so easily.''

  


Clarke felt her eyes fill with tears and lowered her head to hide them from Lexa. ''Thank you, Lexa.''

  


The next day, Clarke awoke feeling somewhat lighter. She worked on her drawings until breakfast. She shared the meal with Lexa and was glad that the brunette made no mention of their late night discussion. They discussed chess – Clarke was eager to get started on the carving, it was a form of art she had never tried before – and her progress in the library. Lexa refused to believe that the blonde had already filled a few shelves, so Clarke rolled her eyes and told her to just come and see this afternoon when the debate turned into a useless ''That's not possible!'' against ''I tell you I have!''.

  


Lexa begged Clarke to attend a meeting with the ambassadors. The young woman was reluctant, not wanting to appear like a fool with her limited knowledge of _Trigedasleng_ , geography and general politics of the Clans – hell, she barely knew the _names_ of all the clans – but relented when Lexa stared at her and promised that she would introduce her to the rest of the Nightbloods afterward.

  


The meeting was less boring and humiliating than Clarke had feared. English was used several times, and discussing trading arrangements was strangely similar to the way her mother related the Council's debate about rations. Observing the ambassadors interact and who was defending which trade road helped her roughly locate each clans. She also better understood what Lexa meant when she said that the Coalition was young and still fragile. Old – and perhaps current – alliances were easy to decipher. She thought she could identify at least three such groups, but would have to ask the Commander to make sure she was interpreting correctly. She wondered why Lexa had insisted on her attending despite the lack of knowledge, but thankfully she did not have to actually interact with the ambassadors.

  


She also noticed the way the Azgeda ambassador was glaring at her as she remained besides Lexa, and mentally agreed that his clan was a likely candidate for the assassination attempt.

  


She was a little disturbed, though, that almost none of the ambassadors dared to look her in the eyes. The people's cheering made her uncomfortable, but this avoidance made her feel somehow less than human. She noted that many ambassadors displayed the same reluctance with the Commander, and wondered if it was because they were both supposedly chosen by the Spirit, or if it was solely that her unexplained and silent presence made them uncomfortable.

  


With a discreet snicker, she realized that her sudden arrival must have perturbed many political moves. No wonder Lexa had insisted to have her seen by her side while attending the official representatives of the clans. All those who doubted the existence of the Healing Nymph had now seen her.

  


She had been surprised, actually, when Lexa had not bothered to introduce her at the beginning of the meeting, letting the ambassadors guess who she was. Then again, her physical appearance was easily recognized.

  


Still, the ambassador from the Delphi Clan eventually used a lull in the negotiations to ask.

  


'' _Heda._ '' He said as he bowed respectfully – too respectfully, Clarke thought, for one who had supported all the demands of Azgeda – and jutted his chin towards the blonde. ''Is _this_ the Healing Nymph people pretend you have found on your trip to the border between _Azgeda_ and _Trikru_?''

  


Clarke bristled and clenched her fists at being observed and referred to as if she were some kind of property.

  


The Commander's face remained impassible. '' _She_ is.'' She replied, her accent and warning tone letting everyone in the room know that she had noticed the disrespect and would not tolerate it.

  


The Ice Nation's ambassador spoke up, sneering. ''And when will you return her to _Azgeda_ , Commander? Clearly the Spirit intended her as a gift to our queen – her hair and eyes prove her relation to _Azgeda_. Did you steal her from our lands?'' He accused smugly.

  


Lexa's face darkened, and the dagger she had been twirling between her fingers was suddenly stabbed in the armrest of her throne. '' _Azgeda_ threatens me?''

  


'' _Azgeda_ demands that you return what rightfully belongs to our queen.'' The ambassador bit back while most of the ambassadors stepped back, preferring to stay out of the way of the escalating disagreement.

  


Clarke was fed up of being talked about as if she weren't there and strode from beside the throne to a few feet away from the accusing ambassador to snarl in his face.

  


'' _Azgeda_ and its queen have no _claim_ on me. I have never set foot in your Nation. I saved the Commander, and I _chose_ to stay by her side. So your queen will have to find her own Nymph. I am not some trophy you can bargain for.''

  


The ambassador smirked at her. ''And what proof do we have that you are truly sent by the Spirit? People are easily bought to spread false rumors. Isn't it convenient that the only ones who _supposedly_ witnessed your prowess are from the _Trikru_ and Polis?''

  


Exasperated, Clarke stepped closer and grabbed the decorated dagger the man wore by his waist. The ambassador immediately assumed a disarming stance, but Clarke had not even thought of attacking him and had stepped back.

  


She looked down at the dagger and then back at the assembled ambassadors, taking time to lock eyes with each one before she plunged the dagger in her chest, repressing a grunt at the pain. She fell to one knee before pulling the dagger back out, startled by the unexpected burn that spread from the knife.

  


She felt the usual tingling as her self-inflicted wound healed and quickly rose again, observing. ''Is it usual for ceremonial daggers to be poisoned?'' She asked casually, tossing the bloody weapon on the table.

  


She heard Lexa rise from her throne. ''It is not. Such things are forbidden inside the city.'' She declared, confirming Clarke's suspicions.

  


The ambassador did not seem worried. ''I grant you that your powers were not pure invention, but it does not change the fact that the Commander is biased. Only _Trikru_ has benefited from your powers. _Heda's_ distrust for _Azgeda_ is well known. Was she the one who ordered you to take my dagger and claim that it is poisoned?'' He challenged.

  


Lexa intervened calmly. ''These are matters easily solved. The Nymph has agreed to heal any people beyond our healers' talents should they apply for her help. Any villager, from any clan, is welcomed to come to Polis and ask for her help. Later, we might organize a trip through all the clans, but the Nymph has other duties to attend in the capitol.''

  


Her eyes narrowed. ''As for the poison, we can easily test the dagger. You will trust the word of the Delphi ambassador, I assume?''

  


Without waiting for an answer, she picked up the knife, grabbed said ambassador's arm and sliced his skin. The wound was not very deep, so the man would not die for a loss of blood, but it would most likely leave a scar.

  


Lexa released his arm and returned to her throne almost lazily. ''We still have some trade agreements to settle. Let us resume. If our ambassador from Delphi dies before we are done, we will discuss _Azgeda's_ punishment.''

  


Clarke also resumed her place on the right side of the throne, dazed by Lexa's handling of the situation while the two ambassadors broke in cold sweat.

  


The Commander announced the next subject that needed to be discussed, and the other ambassadors slowly started to debate over trade roads and taxes again.

  


Predictably, the Delphi ambassador fell to his knees a few minutes later, holding himself up with a hand grasping the table. Lexa instantly gestured for her warriors to restrain the ambassador from Azgeda and called for the meeting to pause. Clarke caught her eyes and glanced at the fallen official with an interrogating look. After some deliberation, Lexa nodded and Clarke quickly walked to heal the man under the surprised stare of the other ambassadors.

  


''Welcome back, Ambassador.'' She grinned at him once she let go of his newly healed arm.

  


The Commander's voice resonated through the room. ''The ambassador from _Azgeda_ has betrayed the trust of the Coalition by bringing a poisoned weapon in this neutral city. As punishment, I demand death by a thousand cuts, and his head shall be sent to his queen to remind her to choose her next ambassador more carefully.''

  


She paused and let her eyes travel around the room. ''Is there anyone who would petition for another punishment?'' She asked loudly.

  


Clarke watched curiously the ambassadors that had supported _Azgeda_ during the first part of the meeting. Not one even dared to look up from the table or the floor.

  


The Commander nodded in satisfaction. ''Execution will take place at dusk. Negotiations are dismissed until tomorrow.'' She stated, and everyone quickly bowed and exited the room. Clarke got the feeling that known allies of _Azgeda_ were especially eager to leave the presence of their Commander, perhaps afraid that she would ask for their blood as well.

  


Clarke slumped in the nearest chair. ''Are all your meetings like this? A knife in the chest is still painful, you know.'' She remarked.

  


Lexa glared at her. ''Next time you plan to do something as stupid as that, warn me. What if this poison had killed you?''

  


She rolled her eyes. ''You know it can't.''

  


Lexa exploded, screaming. ''No, I don't!'' She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. ''Yes, you can recover from most injuries, but there are still things that can kill you. _Azgeda_ is the most brutal and devious of the clans. They have highly trained assassins, and more kinds of poison than I care to know! How am I supposed to know the one he chose will not harm you?''

  


Clarke's smug expression fell, realizing how worried the other woman had truly been. She rose and brushed her hand with Lexa's before withdrawing, not wanting her to interpret the gesture as anything more than friendly reassurance.

  


''Lexa.'' She started soothingly. ''No poison can kill absolutely instantly, so you need not worry if I ever do something like that again. Really, the only sure way to kill me would be to…''

  


Lexa interrupted her by placing her hand against her mouth. ''Don't, _Klark_. You never know who might be listening.'' She cautioned.

  


Clarke nodded in her hand, repressing the urge to kiss it as she felt her tremble slightly, adrenaline still pumping from the stress of the meeting.

  


Lexa sighed. ''After your display, I fear assassins will try to kill you for your power, or even as a challenge. You are not to go anywhere without guards, and the number of warriors escorting you outside the Tower will be doubled.''

  


''That's really not necessary.'' Clarke tried.

  


''It is non negotiable, _Klark_. At the very least, I hope the disagreement will convince you to think twice before doing something like that again.'' Lexa stated firmly. ''Now, let us visit the Nightbloods. Then you may have the rest of the morning to yourself.''

  


Shaking her head, Clarke followed her out of the room.

  


There were six younger _Natblidas_ , who had apparently been told about her by Aden and Strina. They greeted her excitedly and begged her to read to them at night like she had for the two oldest. She promised them that she would, but decided against reading Tolkien to them. She estimated that their ages ranged from three to eight, so she hoped to find an easier book this afternoon. Preferably with bright images.

  


She spent an hour discussing the first part of _The Hobbit_ with them, refusing to spoil the rest of the novel but encouraging them to debate on what seemed good and bad in the Shire's way of life. She was surprised by how mature and articulate they were in their remarks, and smiled at Lexa's proud mien. Aden and Strina in particular would not have sounded out of place in her old literature or philosophy classes.

  


When Titus arrived, all the children sobered up and assumed more serious attitudes, which Clarke took as her cue to leave – now followed by two guards.

  


She made her way to Raven's room to check on her progress with the radio. The latina's table and bed were covered with parts and pieces of metal and Clarke wondered if the girl had even slept – and where.

  


''So? How is it going so far? Think we will have a working radio soon?'' She pressed when Raven looked up from whatever she was doing – Clarke could just see a lot of intertwined wires.

  


The brunette harrumphed. ''Oh, ye of little faith! Are you doubting my genius? Radio is finished, of course.''

  


The blonde's jaw drop, flabbergasted. ''Already? Have you tried to reach the Ark yet?''

  


Raven pointed over her shoulder to the box resting on her bed. ''Radio is this way. But it doesn't work.'' She warned.

  


''Weren't you supposed to fix it?'' Clarke drawled, irritated to have her sudden hope crushed so quickly.

  


''Hey, don't look at me like that!'' Raven exclaimed. ''Not my fault we don't have electricity to power the damn thing! I am trying to find a way to make some.''

  


Clarke felt her shoulders drop a little and apologized with a smile. ''Oh. I didn't think of that. Any ideas yet, then?''

  


''A few. Depends on how much the Commander wants those things.'' The Latina said with a shrug.

  


''Tell me. I will run it by her when I see her next.'' Clarke promised.

  


''Well, the best thing would be to retrieve the solar panels from the dropship, and set them on the roof of this tower, or outside the windows – depends on where we put all the machines and how much wires I have. But obviously, that is going to take a while, and I will have to accompany whoever is sent to disassemble the whole thing without breaking it. Because those babies were in a really bad shape, so there is no way I am letting those heretics handle any more tech.'' The brunette argued.

  


''For the short term, I can put together a dynamo system, but I will need someone to power it up. I can't do all the adjustments while cycling. And I am used to zero-G, not sports.'' She continued.

  


''Cycling?'' Clarke asked, puzzled.

  


''I remember seeing an old broken bike down there. I can make a crank if you think the Commander would prefer that.'' Raven offered with a wicked smile.

  


''I don't think she will care about that. The bike will do.'' She chuckled. ''I should be able to ask her today, so I will let you know.''

  


''Thanks, Griffin! Wanna stay for lunch? I could use a break – and a nap.''

  


''So you _were_ up all night.'' Clarke sighed. ''Where are you going to sleep exactly?'' She asked, waving at all the junk that littered the bed.

  


''Oh, I'll just throw all this on the floor. Except the radio, of course. Would be a shame after the night I spent working on it.''

  


They spent lunch learning more about one another. They had shared their stories about the dropship and all that happened after, and had passed by each other in the Ark a few time – the most significant encounter being when they healed her heart so she could train as a zero-G mechanic – but then it had been mostly professional. Now, their progress with contacting the Ark and their current safety allowed them to relax and discuss inconsequential things. Soon, they were playing a game of twenty questions, and Clarke found herself blushing at the crude questions Raven deemed necessary.

  


''So. Do you like the Commander?'' The Latina asked with an evil grin.

  


Clarke prayed that none of her guards were listening at the door. She wasn't sure who would be in most trouble between her and Raven, and she had no wish to find out.

  


''She is a fair leader.'' She answered diplomatically.

  


''Nope, Griffin. You have to say the truth, that's the game.'' Raven insisted.

  


Clarke glared. ''She _is_ a fair leader.''

  


''And you still didn't answer the question. Out with it, Clarke! It's obviously going to be a yes, so why don't you say it?'' The brunette cooed, and Clarke blushed.

  


''Why ask me if you already know?'' She mumbled, suddenly very interested in peeling her orange perfectly.

  


''Cause I wanna hear you say it.'' Raven pressed.

  


Clarke scratched one side of her orange where part of the peel had stuck to the fruit.

  


''Come on, Griff! How are you gonna say it to her if you can't even admit it to your best friend?'' Raven exclaimed when Clarke stayed silent.

  


She shook her head, eyes still trained on her dessert. She carefully started to part the segments, laying them artistically on her plate.

  


''Since when are we best friend? You have spent the last hour humiliating me.'' She grumbled.

  


''Since I decided to help you with your love life. Big bad Commander seems to have some interest in you, and I have seen the way you looked at her yesterday. What the hell are you waiting for? And leave the damn orange alone! Just eat it. Has your mom never told you not to play with your food?'' She added exasperatedly.

  


''She is the Commander. And I am supposed to be the ambassador for the Ark or whatever. Isn't there a universal rule against relationships with the diplomat you are gonna negotiate with?'' She whined, hoping Raven would just let it go.

  


Sure, she had encountered boys and girls she had found cute before, but her rather privileged status and then her seclusion meant that she had no real experience of a relationship. Lexa was older, more experienced, and she was not as certain as Raven that the Commander had any romantic interest in her. They were just becoming friends.

  


''Bullshit! If anything, that's just another argument for the negotiations, eh?'' She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and Clarke buried her head in her hands, mortified.

  


Raven sobered up. ''Seriously, though. We have both lost a lot of people lately. All the friends we have down here are trapped inside Mount Weather, and your mother is either in the Ark or dead.'' Tha latina stated plainly. ''We both know that. I only had Finn down here, and I have lost him as well. Take what happiness you can, Clarke. Life seems short on the ground.''

  


Clarke thought back to the _Natblidas_. Lexa had been fifteen when she ascended. Only a few years older than Aden and Strina. And from the way she talked about it, there had been quite a few Commanders in less than a century. How short exactly was her life expectancy? She could have died the day they met. Probably would have, if Clarke hadn't been here.

  


She shook her head sadly. ''I have to think about our people first. And Lexa lost a lover once. I don't think she ever quite recovered from that. What if I confess, and things become awkward?''

  


Raven sighed. ''Whatever you say. I gave you an advice, and I stand by it. I don't think I'll ever recover from Finn, but I don't have to forget him to start something new with someone else, you know? It doesn't have to be true love – everyone is allowed pleasure and comfort. Soon, we will contact the Ark, you will do your job, and then you are free. What then? You will just be her healer. Surely the healer can do _personal_ check-ups, right?'' The brunette suggested.

  


Images flashed through Clarke's mind and she blushed again. ''God, Raven, can you stop with the innuendos? I am not gonna start anything. Not until we resolve this whole mess with the Ark.'' She tempered.

  


Raven threw up her hands. ''Okay, okay! I'll just have to see if the Commander is less stubborn than you.''

  


Clarke felt the blood drain from her face at the idea. ''Please don't.''

  


''Just joking. I don't have a death wish. Now, shoo! I have a dynamo to prepare until you can convince your Commander to let me borrow that bike – and someone to ride it.''

  


The blonde decided to flee the room without commenting on that last remark, and ran to the library with her gaze stuck to the floor. She _really_ hoped the walls and the door had been thick enough for the guards not to hear her conversation with the mechanic.

  


She resumed her work in the dusty room, sighing at the amount of books that still littered the floor and the tables. She rummaged through the crates, looking for a child book first. She eventually found a few tales from the Greek and Egyptian mythologies. She would just have to reread a few before tonight, to avoid reading the most gruesome ones to a three year-old.

  


She put the two books aside and resolutely turned back to the crate she had started on the previous day. She piled up the books she did not know on the nearest table, and then carried the books she recognized to the shelves.

  


As she put them away – novels on the bottom, more practical books on the top – she glanced at the left side of the room. She had only set very few books on that side of the room. She was of the opinion that any book had something to teach you. Her criterias for non-useful books had simply been on the topic – if it was something that only made sense in the old world, like a Guinness record book.

  


She would probably have to talk to Lexa about more specific criterias; or adding more shelves to the right side of the room.

  


She fell into a comfortable rhythm, chuckling from time to time when she stumbled on a book she had enjoyed before, like those Shakespearean tragedies. She imagined quoting one to Lexa. If the wording from Tolkien confused her, it would be amusing to see her try to puzzle out the words of the Bard.

  


A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and a glance at the windows made her realize that the sun would soon be setting. The doors opened before she could answer, and she rolled her eyes while Lexa strode in. Why did she bother to knock if she never waited?

  


The brunette looked around, eyes bulging at the sight of the full shelves.

  


''You really have made impressive progress.'' She admitted.

  


''I told you so.'' Clarke said smugly. She had a feeling that the Commander wasn't exactly used to being proved wrong.

  


Green eyes narrowed at her tone. ''You will have to give me a summary of how each one of these books could be useful for _Hedas_ , but we do not have time for that now. The execution is scheduled in a couple of hours.''

  


''Okay.'' Clarke said, confused of why the Commander reminded her of that.

  


''You have to attend.'' Lexa continued. ''By rights, you get the second cut, because his dagger hurt you.''

  


The blonde stepped back, raising her hand in a pacifying gesture. ''Wow! No! I took the dagger to hurt myself. I am glad I did since he probably planned to do something with it – what kind of idiot would prance around with a poisoned knife all day without cause? – but I don't see why _I_ have to go and cut the man?!''

  


Lexa's face was a mask, her tone even as she replied. ''That is our way. All those that were affected by his actions have the right to cut him. You exposed him. You cannot not be here to witness his death.''

  


Clarke slammed her fist against the wall in frustration, growing further irritated when the other woman didn't even flinch at the gesture. ''I am a _healer_! And not just because of my abilities! I chose to study medicine, and I took an oath never to harm someone intentionally. You can't ask me to execute someone!''

  


She noticed the brunette's eyes widen at the mention of an oath, and seized it. ''Your people value vows, right? Then don't force me to betray mine! I will not hurt someone, unless it is to defend myself or someone else.'' She argued.

  


''I did not now you had to swore such a vow.'' Lexa apologized. ''I will explain why you shall not take your turn with the knife. You are still expected to attend the execution, though. You must witness justice.''

  


Her voice softened as she continued. ''I know you do not care for death as a punishment, and I can understand why since it was bestowed so easily where yu ome from, but I cannot allow such an infraction to go unanswered. His aim was most likely you, me or my novitiates.''

  


''Your novitiates? Why? Don't they need them to receive your Spirit if you die?'' Clarke wondered, confused.

  


''There are some who would wish to ensure the Spirit of the Commander left this life forever.'' Lexa stated simply. ''That is why the _Natblidas_ must always be protected.''


	11. Execution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is graphic depictions of violence in this chapter, that involve children. Be warned.

Lexa guided Clarke out of the library. She was sincerely impressed by the amount of books the healer had sorted in two half days. It was more than the entire work of generations of _Hedas_ and _Fleimkeepas_. Lexa herself had never put one book on those shelves – she had been too busy forming and then holding together the Coalition.

 

It was strange, observing Clarke's reactions to everything Lexa herself had known since childhood. The blonde had a completely different way of considering things, and not simply because of her healing. The fact that she had grown up in a very different culture was glaringly obvious.

 

From what she had gathered, the Sky people did not wage war. Their justice was even harsher than the Clans', with crimes being systematically punished by death. Yet, they were encouraged to read stories that openly disagreed with such practices. She also had a feeling that their mode of execution was very different, and worried how difficult witnessing tonight's death of the ambassador would be for the blonde.

 

Thinking of the ambassador reminded her of the meeting from this morning. At first, she had been slightly surprised by how well Clarke seemed to follow everything. She was aware that the young woman knew next to nothing about the different clans – she had actually resisted attending the meeting in the first place because of that – but from her glances, Lexa suspected that her mind had been sharp enough to pick up on some of the non official alliances between the clans. Clearly, the Ark was not spared from conspiracy and petty politicians in the same way it was exempt from wars.

 

But then she had recklessly answered _Azgeda's_ provocation. Sure, it had worked out for the best in the end, but Lexa had been secretly panicked and furious. Only her years of training and experience had allowed her to keep her impassive mask and deal with the matter in a calm way as well as seize the opportunity to get rid of _Azgeda's_ ambassador.

 

She had suspected the man to be a trained assassin since the day he set foot in Polis, but had not managed to find any proof so far. She still did not know what exactly his mission had been. Clarke could not have been his target – not for killing at least, but his provocation was proof enough that Nia had heard tales of the Nymph and was interested. So who was? Herself? Her _Natblidas_?

 

She was growing more and more worried about her novitiates. Poisoned food had been found in the meal intended for them not long ago. And the last time she had left the city's lands with Strina they had been attacked by bandits.

 

The both of them had easily dispatched them, and she knew Strina had been proud of her first real battle – if a little shaken – but Lexa had immediately canceled any further trips with her or Aden. Bandits never came so close to her capitol. They knew it was a death wish to do so.

 

Unless someone had offered them enough to make it worth the risk.

 

She wasn't sure why Nia was so determined to destroy her novitiates. The Ice Nation had benefited a lot from the Coalition, and until recently Nia's objective had seemed to be to take command of it rather than destroy it. But for some reason, she was now multiplying her attempts against Lexa and the children.

 

Was time pressing in the north for some reason?

 

Worse, Aden and Strina were the only ones eligible for the Conclave, and they were still too young in Lexa's opinion. Most often, it was one of the two or three eldest _Natblidas_ that became Commander. Lexa herself had been somewhat of an oddity in that respect, winning her Conclave despite being only fifteen and therefore still lacking in pure muscle strength against older opponents. She knew Luna would have won if she had not forfeited. The Commander before her had not been in place for long – less than eight years. So Luna and her twin brother, at eighteen, had been the oldests. Lexa had not been the youngest, but three years could mean a lot at such an age.

 

Unfortunately, two Conclave so close in time meant that there were fewer _Natblidas_. And she had not yet been in power long enough for them to grow old enough. No matter their qualities, it would be a near impossible task for an eleven or ten year-old child to hold together the Coalition when most chief clans would be trying to manipulate them.

 

Aden was an impressive fighter with most weapons, and she had little doubts he would win the Conclave if it were to occur now. He was also very clever in his propositions on negociations when she discussed it with him and Strina. However, he tended to be too forgiving and trustful. It was not a bad thing, but he had not yet learned to balance this fact with a more realistic understanding of human nature.

 

Strina, on the other hand, was more sarcastic – especially since the encounter with the bandits. She seemed to have a natural knack for guessing the intentions of the person she was talking with, though her young age prevented her from understanding some of those motives. She was a good fighter, though she despised the staff and spear training. She often used her smaller frame as a way to slip under her opponent's guard and favoured short-range weapons.

 

Really, it was a shame that there could only be one _Heda_. Together, the two children would have a very fair and reliable judgement, their respective qualities and limitations balancing almost perfectly.

 

She hoped they would have enough years training together to teach one another, and that when they faced the Spirit in the Conclave, they would both have their chance.

 

Clarke interrupted her thoughts.

 

''Er… I know this might not be the best time to ask you this, but I checked on Raven's progress this morning, and she pointed out an issue we hadn't really thought of at first.'' She exposed hesitantly, rubbing the back of her neck with her left hand.

 

Lexa paused and looked at the blonde, waiting for her to elaborate.

 

She did. ''Those old machines need power – electricity. Before it was easy, but now we have to produce it. Raven thought of two possible solutions.''

 

She paused again, and Lexa nodded to indicate that she could continue.

 

''The first, and most reliable one, is to retrieve the solar panels from our dropship. It is what we used in space to power the Ark. But, obviously that means a trip back to the dropship for Raven, and then some more time to install everything here.''

 

''The other solution would be faster.'' Lexa guessed. She couldn't blame Clarke for being eager to finally contact the Ark and save her people from asphyxia.

 

The blonde acquiesced. ''It is. But it will require… someone to power everything.'' She hesitated again.

 

Lexa's eyes narrowed. She wasn't sure she liked where this was going. ''Would it harm the person powering it? Or are you asking me to abandon some of your duties to power it yourself?''

 

She saw blue eyes widen. ''What? No! Not me.'' She shook her head and explained. ''I wouldn't have the stamina – you know how weak my muscles still are. No, basically the trick is to convert movement into electricity. Raven wants to use an old bike she saw in the basements. She will need someone to pedal to power the radio.''

 

That sounded simple enough. ''Oh. Why were you so hesitant to ask for that?'' She wondered.

 

''Honestly? I feared the idea of one of your people slaving away would offend you.'' She replied with a grimace.

 

''My people will do their duty. How long until you can talk to your people in the sky, then?''

 

Clarke smiled widely. ''Hopefully, a day or two. Depends on whether I can convince Raven to sleep or not.''

 

The blonde grew serious again. ''Tonight… Is there anything I am supposed to do, or say? Or do I just have to stand there and watch?''

 

The disgust was clear in her voice, and Lexa supressed a sigh. Clarke's father had been executed, so it was not so surprising that the blonde would be reluctant to attend. ''I will be the one talking. Since this will be your first official appearance as my healer before the people of Polis, you should wear a more ceremonial attire. And add some braids your hair.'' She recommended.

 

She paused. Braiding was intimate, as it required someone standing or sitting very close to your head and neck. It was usually done by family or lovers. Costia used to braid Lexa's hair. Since her death, she had relied on Gustus or her _Natblidas_.

 

And now she longed to run her fingers through the blonde hair of her Nymph, to see if it was as soft as it looked. She cleared her throat.

 

''I can help you, if you wish.'' She offered, her heart beating and her mind screaming at her that this was a mistake – love was weakness, no matter what the blonde had said. Her offer, she reasoned, was mostly rational. She doubted Clarke's culture cared much for braids, or the blonde or even Raven would have sported some, given the ascendance of the first, and the qualifications of the latter.

 

Clarke flushed as she replied. ''Thank you, but I have to talk to Raven. I am sure she will help me, so I won't waste time and end up late to the… ceremony.''

 

Dozens of arguments flashed through Lexa's mind to try and convince Clarke that she would be a better choice. Raven would not know what kind of braids to do, how to arrange her hair. She had only met the other brunette two days ago. The mechanic should be working on the radio, not playing with Clarke's hair. Raven had no _right_ to be the one braiding her hair.

 

But then, neither did she.

 

''Of course.'' She said simply, hiding the disappointment in her voice. She knew Clarke had not meant to slight her – she was simply hoping to kill two birds with one arrow by using the time to prepare herself to speak with the mechanic.

 

With a nod, the blonde walked away.

 

Lexa took a deep breath and blinked. _Love is weakness_. She repeated. _Costia died because you loved her_.

 

 _But Clarke can't die. She would be safe._ A treacherous voice whispered in her mind.

 

She shook her head furiously. Clarke could die. She had admitted it herself. And even if she couldn't die, she still felt pain. Lexa had seen the wince and heard the moans of pain when she hurt herself – which she seemed to do a lot. She wondered if the Spirit had granted her this power because she was simply too stubborn and reckless to survive without it.

 

Really, the blonde had been alone in her room for less than two evenings, and she had managed to break her arm and hurt her ribs. All because she decided to go exploring in the dark without a damn candle.

 

Perhaps she should assign her more guards, with instructions not to allow Clarke anywhere near a sharp object. Or a steep fall.

 

Sighing, she reached her rooms and prepared herself for the execution. _Azgeda's_ lack of ambassador would stall all further trade decisions – though the ambassadors would keep talking uselessly. She hoped Nia would be more reasonable this time, and actually send someone with more training in politics than in poisons. But she knew this was wishful thinking.

 

She watched out the window. The pole had been set up, and two warriors were applying the resin. The top would be lit once the last cut had been delivered. The pole would slowly burn, providing lighting for the audience, and pain for the culprit. His head would be cut off before it became completely unrecognizable.

 

She knew the lack of protest in the throne room when she condemned him did not mean that there was no resentment from some clans. Though she was unsure what _Delfi's_ position was right now, since _Azgeda_ had been willing to let him die until Clarke saved him. Perhaps this would help her. But tonight, she knew she would be a target if there were any other _Azgeda_ assassins in Polis.

 

Which was one of the reasons she needed Clarke to attend with her. And the _Natblidas_ would remain on their floor, heavily protected, except Aden and Strina who would attend as well. She hadn't wanted them to, but Titus had insisted. Either one might be in her place soon, and this was part of the duties they would have to oversee.

 

Some time later, a warrior knocked on her door, informing her that everything was ready, and that the Healing Nymph was already on her way to the square. Time to go.

 

She enumerated the charges as the ambassador was being tied to the pole. She knew rumors had already spread throughout the city, and she needed to ensure opponents of her Coalition would not use this event to their advantage. Then she proceeded to describe the punishment that would be bestowed tonight – the cuts, then the burning and beheading.

 

She paused before making her last announcement. She had thought it through, and knew Clarke would dislike her twisting her words somewhat, but she truly believed it was the best way to prevent the displeasure of her people. She would deal with the blonde's pride later.

 

''The Healing Nymph made a vow to the Spirit when he granted her with healing powers. She swore that she would never harm or kill anyone, unless it was the only way to save or defend. As a consequence of that oath, she will not take her turn with the dagger tonight.''

 

The crowd became silent. Lexa knew they were surprised. _Jus drein jus daun_ was their tradition. The Spirit's way of ensuring culprits were punished. Hearing that the Spirit had asked someone so deeply blessed to go against this fundamental rule was… unexpected. It was a good thing Clarke had displayed her abilities in the capitol the previous day – it would quell the doubts.

 

Soon, the execution began. Lexa was the first to make the cut, followed by Aden and Strina, and then the Delphi's ambassador. She quietly instructed her novitiates to cut deeper than usual, as she had. She had seen Clarke's fists clench and her clamped jaw as she described the mode of execution. The braids that pulled back her hair made her expressions all the more visible.

 

The young woman must not crack before the end. People would lose their faith. So Lexa had to ensure the process would end as soon as possible.

 

The man survived until he received all his cuts and the pole was lit. Lexa saw as he lurched forward, his body sagging as he fell unconscious from blood loss. The flames had not reached him yet. He would be dead before they did.

 

With a wave, she dismissed the other ambassadors and ordered her warriors to cut and prepare the head. The crowd would stay and watch as the rest of the traitor's body burned. Some would say that he had not deserved such a harsh punishment, since there had been no actual victim, but she needed to make an example and send a clear message to the Ice queen. By cutting off his head before the body burned, she ensured his soul would not be free to be birthed again in a new life.

 

Like Nia had done with Costia.

 

She walked back to the Tower, followed by the two children and Clarke, and escorted by a dozen warriors. Her hand rested on her sword, eyes darting as she watched the shadows.

 

Clarke walked up to her, having noticed her tense state. ''You expect an attack.''

 

It was not a question, but she answered anyway, still checking any possible cache for an assassin. ''This would be an ideal time for my enemies to try something.''

 

A sharp cry behind her made her turn on the spot, watching as Aden fell to the ground, an arrow burrowed deep in his back. Strina was on the floor just a couple feet ahead of him, unharmed. She was the one who had cried.

 

Half of the guards were already chasing the running figure of the archer. Lexa barked to the rest to spread out and search the nearby houses for any more attackers. She still remembered the fourth man from the attack when she had met Clarke. She would not fall for the same trick again.

 

The young woman had ran to the blond boy after letting out a strangled cry of horror. Lexa stood over her _Natblidas_ , sword drawn.

 

''What happened, Strina?''

 

The girl was rising to her feet, unsheathing her own favorite weapons – two long daggers.

 

''Aden must have seen the archer. He pushed me out of the way.''

 

Clarke had already pulled out the arrow, and the boy was groaning as she pressed against his wound. ''Be glad he did. The arrow did not hit anything major.''

 

Already, she was lifting her hand, and slowly helping Aden to stand. The boy coughed up blood and Lexa found Clarke's eyes, worried.

 

''It's alright.'' The blonde reassured immediately. ''He is just evacuating the blood that gathered in his lung because of the wound. He will be fine as soon as his body is rid of it all.''

 

Lexa nodded. ''We are going back to the Tower. Strina, take the rear. I will go in front.''

 

Clarke supported a still coughing and wheezing Aden as they followed Lexa. Three guards joined them a few moments later, reporting that they had found no one suspicious nearby.

 

They moved forward slowly, both because of Aden and because Lexa still felt wary. Something wasn't right. Why send only one assassin, that ran away at the first sign of trouble? Or had it been some fool who acted alone?

 

She relaxed slightly when she they turned in the street that led directly to the Tower, and she could see the guarded doors of her home. Once they passed those gates, they would be safe. Then she could wait for news on whether her guards managed to capture the attacker.

 

Again, she heard a pained scream behind her, and her heart froze when she recognized the voice.

 

Clarke.

 

At the same time, she heard a muffled groan of pain behind her, and saw the guards from the Tower start running towards her group. She swirled around.

 

The three guards escorting her had attacked her charges. The shock of the betrayal kept her rooted on the spot as her disbelieving mind struggled to comprehend the scene. Clarke had fallen to her knees, a dagger planted in her back and her hands pressed against Aden's blood-oozing neck. One guard was trying to pull her away from the boy while another stabbed her repeatedly with a dagger covered in black blood. Further away, the third guard had grabbed Strina, and was immobilizing her against his front as he slit her throat.

 

Black blood spurted out and Lexa threw herself forward with a furious snarl.

 

She sliced at the back of one of the men attacking Clarke, and followed with a quick kick at the back of his knees to bring him to the ground. Then she parried the dagger of his companion. With a growl, she retaliated with a sharp jab of her sword towards his neck, but the man deflected her blow. Sensing the other man trying to grab her ankles, she sidestepped.

 

She spared a glance down to see Clarke, dagger still burrowed in her back, breath labored as she crawled towards the young, bleeding _natblida_ girl. Aden was lying unmoving, his neck covered in blood. She hoped he was still alive.

 

She already knew Clarke would not reach Strina in time. The slumped girl's eyes were becoming glassy.

 

She stomped her foot in the chest of the man still lying on the floor, satisfied to feel a few ribs crack as a pained scream escaped his lips. Confident he wouldn't bother her for the next few seconds, she strode towards the other attackers again, slashing her sword at the arm of one before knocking the other on the elbow with her pommel. She forced them back, intent on protecting whatever was left of her charges.

 

As she heard the other guards approaching, she steeled herself. If there were more people involved in this conspiracy, if those guards were coming to help her opponents instead of her, she would not be able to win this fight.

 

And what of the Nightbloods inside the Tower? Were they safe?

 

She was slightly reassured when the warriors threw themselves at the traitors. She cried at them to keep at least one alive for questioning before running to Aden and checking his wound.

 

There was none. Feverishly, she put her fingers on the side of his neck and exhaled when she felt a pulse. Clarke had saved him. Again.

 

She raised her eyes and saw the blonde clutching Strina's body. When she caught her gaze, the healer shook her head sadly, tears running freely down her cheeks.

 

Sheathing her sword, Lexa gathered the young boy in her arms. Her loyal warriors had subdued the traitorous ones. All three were alive, though one was bleeding profusely from a head wound and the one she had stepped on was unable to sit on his own. She nodded sharply at the guards, wordlessly instructing them to throw the lot of them in a cell until she had time to conduct an interrogation.

 

Lexa did not ask Clarke to heal any of them, and the young woman did not offer either, glaring coldly at the one who had killed Strina.

 

Belatedly, Lexa remembered that Clarke had been stabbed and hurried to her side, still carrying Aden.

 

''Is he okay?'' The blonde asked her, her gaze shifting to the unconscious boy.

 

''He is alive. What about you?'' She asked, noticing that her breathing was still labored.

 

''I am alive.'' She deadpanned. ''I need help pulling that knife out. I can't reach it.''

 

Her hold around Strina's body tightened. ''Lexa… I am so sorry. I couldn't… I tried to get to her, but…''

 

Lexa fought back the tears. _Later_ she promised herself. Right now, she had to help Clarke, and make sure the rest of her Nightbloods were okay.

 

She gently laid an unconcious Aden back on the floor before moving around to Clarke's back.

 

''I just pull it out?'' She asked. She had seen the blonde heal from worse wounds, but this was not the only fatal wound she had suffered tonight – the attackers had seemed hell bent on stabbing the life out of her. Not to mention her stunt in the throne room this morning.

 

Was that really this morning? It suddenly felt so long ago.

 

Clarke nodded and Lexa saw her bracing herself for the pain. She laid one hand on her shoulder, both for support and leverage, and closed the other around the handle, deftly pulling the weapon out. She let out a small sigh of relief when she saw the wound seal itself instantly.

 

More guards had arrived, most likely sent by those who had escorted the prisoners away. Aden was stirring.

 

Lexa turned back to Clarke. ''Can you help him walk? I will carry Strina.'' She whispered, voice cracking slightly as her eyes fell on the small body and the pool of black blood already drying underneath it.

 

Slowly, she cradled the body to her chest, ripping her sash from her pauldron to cover her neck and hide the hideous wound from sight of others. The other novitiates did not need to see that. She felt Clarke release her own old on the girl and rose. Aden was coughing again, and Clarke attended him immediately.

 

His brown eyes sought her out, and she saw him stare at the limp form of Strina in her arms. She shook her head, and looked away.

 

She had failed her _Natblidas_.

 

 _Natblidas_ lives were always short. They died in the Conclave, or after a few years as _Heda_. The _Hedas_ before her had slowly pushed up the age limit for the Conclave. Currently, no child under ten was supposed to take part in it. Aden and Strina had been brought to Polis before her own Ascension. Her last two years of training had been with them watching her and sleeping next door.

 

She had hoped to live as long as possible, to give them as many years as she could before they had to face each other in the Conclave. She had hoped – and still did – to push the age limit further, up to twelve or even fourteen, before she passed on.

 

She had hoped to pave the way so that the next one could reform the Conclave into a less deadly selection.

 

And now one of her children had died on her watch.

 

This was not supposed to happen. _Heda_ was supposed to be the first to die. _She_ was supposed to be the first to die.

 

After Costia, Lexa had refused herself any kind of close relationships, pushing away her friends and even her old mentor Anya. She had hoped that their eventual deaths would not hurt as much if she was already estranged from them emotionally.

 

But she had not closed herself off from her _Natblidas_. Her novitiates were safe, because she would never see them die. She was sometimes hesitant in her displays of affection, knowing they would eventually have to kill one another and not wanting to show favoritism. But she had never denied them her care and smiles. Because, selfishly, she knew she would never live to bear the weight of their deaths.

 

And now Strina's body weighed heavily in her arms.

 

Grief was crushing her, but she had to keep going. She had to make sure the other children were alright. She had to find out who else was part of this conspiracy that had cost Strina's life. She had to honor her young Nightblood now that her fight had ended.

 

They entered the elevator, alongside Clarke who was half-carrying Aden. The boy had stopped coughing, but he was visibly weakened by the blood loss – or perhaps it was the shock of seeing his fellow Nightblood get murdered.

 

Quietly, eyes staring at the wall, she asked.

 

''Clarke, will you take Aden to your room to help him wash up and ensure he is well? I need to prepare…'' She stammered. ''I need to prepare her for the ceremony. And tell the others.''

 

The blonde looked her up and down before she nodded. ''Wash yourself before you talk to the kids.'' She recommended softly, eyes lingering on her blood stained clothes and hands.

 

Black blood mixed with red blood. A lot of it. And none from her.

 

Clarke was right. The youngest novitiates didn't need to see that either. Strina's death would be hard enough news in itself.

 

They reached _Heda's_ floor where a warrior informed them that the _Natblidas_ were safely in their quarters, and unaware of what had happened. With a nod to Clarke and Aden, she headed to the least used room of this floor – the room where she had last gone to honor the previous _Heda_ before her own Conclave. The room she had never wanted to enter again in her life. But she intended to see to it that Strina was honored as she should be. She delicately deposited the small body on the large table.

 

She exited the room and ordered the warriors to guard the door as if it was their _Heda's_ bedchamber. Then she sent another one to get Titus. He knew better than her what should be done for a _Natblida's_ funeral.

 

She hurried to her room, ripping off her clothes as soon as she closed her door, and using the cold water that had been brought to scrub away the blood on her person. She quickly inspected herself in a mirror before slipping on clean clothes. Then she walked back to the elevator.

 

Her novitiates had heard the commotion, and were gathered worriedly in their room. She saw the relief in their young eyes when they saw her enter the room, reassured that there would be no Conclave on the morrow. Her heart clenched, knowing how terrible the news would be to them. Aden and Strina were like their older siblings, almost mentors to them all.

 

She let the grief show on her face and waved them closer, hugging them as she shared the tale of what had happened tonight. She reassured them several times that Aden was alright, that Clarke had saved him but that Strina had been too far for the healer to reach in time. She warned them that the situation was not sorted yet, and that they should not leave their rooms – or only through the secret passage to visit Clarke and Aden.

 

She hated to leave them like this, and hoped Clarke would not mind them invading her room. The children needed comfort, but she had to ensure their safety first. They might not know Clarke well yet, but she knew they had liked the time spent with her, and that her own trust in the blonde encouraged the children to be less reserved with the young woman. She had no doubt they would seek her and Aden for comfort while she tended to the most pressing matters.


	12. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. I had to modify a few things in it because of later chapters, and real life has also been busy... Next updates might be every two weeks from now on.  
> Also, there is a song in this chapter, and it's not mine (obviously).  
> Enjoy!

Lexa left the Nightbloods quarters, and strongly informed the guards that no one but herself was allowed to enter – not even the _Fleimkeepa_. The Tower was in a state of lock down, and would remain such until she was convinced that it was safe again. She sent the same order to the warriors guarding Clarke's room. No one would disturb the Natblidas tonight. She instructed for food to be sent to Clarke and the nightbloods' rooms, the servants instructed to let the warriors taste everything to ensure no poison had been slipped in the meal. Then the warriors would knock and announce that food was available.

 

Lexa made her way to the cells. Gustus was already waiting for her there. He dropped to his knees when he saw her, apologizing for not protecting her properly – he had been leading the team chasing and capturing the first assassin. She waved away his apology and grimly instructed him to proceed with the interrogation.

 

The attackers were all relatively young – barely a few years older than her – but had been trained well. Two hours of torture later, Lexa still had no idea who else might be involved as her prisoners remained tight-lipped. They endured the pain and stayed silent.

 

Thankfully, though, she had been able to identify them. All of their known friends had been brought to another cell for questioning – a gentler questioning, as she had no wish to torture innocents. They would be released slowly, once she was convinced that they had taken no part in the plot to kill her novitiates.

 

She left Gustus, trusting him to continue the interrogation and report his findings. The multiple arrestation and closing of the Tower reassured her that her home was mostly safe again – for now.

 

Tiredly, she made her way back to Strina's body, where Titus had already washed and covered the young girl. She informed him of the on-going investigation, and he offered to supervise it so she could rest and see to the remaining novitiates. She accepted gratefully.

 

After he left the room, Lexa lifted the sheet to gaze one last time at Strina's face. She was pale, but relaxed, and Lexa hoped that her spirit would choose a body destined to a simpler, happier life. She lit a stick of incense and waved it above the dead girl as she whispered her prayer to the Spirit, as she had when the previous Heda had passed. Tomorrow, the Natblidas would do the same, and then the girl's body would be burned on a pyre to free her spirit.

 

Feeling more calm after her devotions, she left the room and made her way to Clarke's. She expected the children to be there, or have at least visited her for a while. She nodded to the guards before knocking softly on the door. For once, she waited, not wanting to cause her charges undue stress by barging in as she was often prompt to do.

 

The door opened slightly, and Clarke smiled when she saw her. She moved aside to let her in, and Lexa slipped through the narrow opening. The blonde closed the door behind her and whispered.

 

''They are asleep. Good thing that room has such a large bed.''

 

Aden was sitting quietly on the sofa, one hand resting on six-year old Minnea as she slept with her head in his lap. The five other natblidas were sleeping on Clarke's bed, and from the empty space on one side of it Lexa guessed that the young woman had been lying with them until she heard her knock.

 

Wordlessly, she indicated to Clarke that she should return to her previous position, while she herself went to sit besides Aden. She pressed his head against her torso, and caressed his hair until she felt him tremble and heard him sobbing quietly until he finally fell asleep.

 

It was well after midnight when Lexa rose and shook Clarke.

 

''We need to get them back to their own beds. The situation is too delicate right now to allow anyone to find out about the passage.''

 

She hated to send them back – especially Aden – to their quarters, where the empty bed would be glaringly obvious. But it was necessary. She could only keep Titus and all the servants and warriors away for so long. Soon, Gustus or her Flame keeper would be knocking on her door to report on their progress in the investigation.

 

And her own extended presence in Clarke's room had probably been noticed as well. If she had not been in such a hurry to see her novitiates, she would have thought of going to her own rooms and joining them through the passage herself.

 

They awoke the children, as the passage was too narrow to allow them to carry them downstairs. The young women escorted them to their own rooms, and Clarke pulled Aden's mattress into the room of the younger Natblidas when she saw his ashen face staring at Strina's bed. Lexa smiled her thanks at the blonde.

 

Some were exhausted and fell back asleep quickly, but the two youngest were crying quietly while Aden was staring blankly at the wall.

 

Lexa was at a loss for what to do next. Though she was no stranger to grief, she had rarely helped someone through that process before, and never received such help either. After some deliberation, she asked Clarke if she could read them another story. They had enjoyed it before, and she hoped it would distract them enough from their grief to let them fall asleep.

 

The blonde shook her head, stating her mind was too much of a mess to think of a story at the moment. Instead, she proposed a lullaby.

 

''What is that? I have never heard that word before.'' Lexa asked.

 

Though really, if Clarke thought it could work, she didn't really care what it was.

 

''It's a soothing song, one you sing to young children to help them fall asleep. Your people never do that?''

 

Lexa squirmed in her seat by her youngest natblida. ''They do. But I have never heard one personally. I was sent to Polis at two, I have no memories of my parents, or any song they might have sung to me.'' She explained, ashamed that she was so unable to provide comfort to the children. ''Will you sing one?''

 

''I… I can try. It's not exactly a lullaby, but it sounds like one, and it's the only song I can think of right now.''

 

She began, her voice low and raspier than usual.

 

 _Fear not this night_  
You will not go astray  
Though shadows fall  
Still the stars find their way 

_Awaken from a quiet sleep_  
Hear the whispering of the wind  
Awaken as the silence grows  
In a solitude of the night 

 

Lexa gently caressed the hair of the young girl as her tears slowed and her face relaxed into sleep. She quietly made her way around the room, checking on all the natblidas and pausing to move Aden in a more comfortable position – the boy had slumped against the concrete wall, his neck at an angle that promised soreness in the morning.

 

 _Pleadings heard in arias_  
Gently grieving in captive misery  
Darkness sings a forlorn song  
Yet our hope can still rise up 

_Nightmares come when shadows grow  
Lift your voice, lift your hope _

Some of the words were unknown to Lexa, but she could understand why it had come so readily to Clarke's mind. It spoke of hoping and enduring past the grief and the hardships. It certainly suited the situation.

 

When the last note faded into silence, Lexa verified one last time that they were all asleep before guiding Clarke back to her room. Nightmares would probably come sooner or later, but they had done their best for now.

 

Back in the healer's room, she asked quietly.

 

''Do you have any bandages?''

 

Clarke's eyes jumped to her form, searching for any sign of injury. ''Are you hurt? Why didn't you say anything before? Show me, I'll heal you.'' She urged, her left hand already rising towards her.

 

''I am fine.'' She placated. ''But the guards will wonder why I stayed in your room for so long. Just wrap a bandage somewhere they will see, but where a wound could have escaped notice because of my clothes. Let them think you exhausted your powers to heal Aden and had to resort to more traditional methods for me. I will come to your room again tomorrow for you to 'heal' me fully.'' She detailed.

 

The blonde stared at her for a while, and Lexa struggled to interpret her expression. Relief? Worry? Disappointment? Admiration?

 

''I am actually impressed you can come up with such a plan under the circumstances.'' She eventually said before walking to a chest and pulling out wrappings.

 

''Lift up your shirt.'' She instructed. ''The leg would be more sure to be noticed, but your warriors would know you did not limp here, so I will make a bandage around your back and shoulder. Let your sleeve roll up a little and they should be able to see it.''

 

Since the bandage was literally just for show, Clarke was done quickly. Lexa thanked her and left through the main door, making sure to ''forget'' to pull down her sleeves as she walked to her own rooms and settled to get some sleep.

 

She slept fitfully, and rose as soon as sunlight filtered through the windows. She dressed quickly, forgoing her pauldron when she remembered the ripped sash, and exited her rooms to make her way back to Clarke's. The wrappings were irritating on her skin, and she wanted them off as soon as possible.

 

She hesitated, fist hovering before the door. They had not gone to bed until really late, and the blonde had healed several fatal wounds the previous day. She must be exhausted.

 

With a sigh, she knocked. There was a lot to do today. Starting with the funeral, and the investigation. She might need Clarke to heal the traitors so they could continue the questioning, if they still refused to talk.

 

A muffled voice invited her in, and she entered.

 

''Learned the art of waiting after knocking?'' The blonde remarked dryly.

 

She was sitting at her desk, working on a drawing – plants again, most likely. And from the bags under her eyes, she had not had much rest. It seemed the young woman dealt with grief in a similar way than her – by burying herself in work.

 

''I was unsure of whether you were awake yet.'' She replied as she walked up behind her and looked at the drawing over her shoulder.

 

It was not a plant. Instead, she found herself looking into Strina's eyes.

 

She felt tears well up in her eyes at the unexpected sight and took a quick step back. Clarke hid the drawing under another sheet and rose from her seat to face her.

 

''Sorry. I… I wanted to draw her. Keep a… happier image of her than last night.'' She explained softly.

 

Lexa took a deep breath and looked away from her to take a moment to calm down and compose herself.

 

''It is a good liking. Just… don't show it to the others. Not yet.'' She said, and was relieved to see the healer nod.

 

She squared her shoulders. ''If you are ready, can you remove those bandages? We must have Strina's final ceremony this morning, and I need to finish sorting this whole mess.''

 

''Of course.''

 

Soon, they were sitting across each other in a nearby room, picking at their breakfast. Lexa encouraged Clarke to eat, remembering how ravenous the girl had been after intense healing a few days ago. But neither of them seemed able to stomach more than a few mouthfuls.

 

They were interrupted by a Latina who called out to them from behind the wall of warriors guarding the door.

 

''Oi! Griffin! Where is my bike?''

 

The blonde sighed. Lexa ordered the guards to let the girl in. She'd rather have everything taken care of as soon as possible.

 

The mechanic entered the room, glaring over her shoulder at the huge warriors, but stopped short when she saw the two young women.

 

''Er… sorry, Commander. Didn't know you were here.''

 

She paused, focusing on Clarke. ''No offense, Griffin, but you look like shit. What the hell happened? I swear warriors have been multiplying since last night, and the guards wouldn't let me go get that bike.''

 

Lexa saw Clarke glance at her, asking with her eyes if she was allowed to tell Raven. She nodded reluctantly.

 

''One of the Commander's novitiates was assassinated last night. That's why the Tower is on locked down.'' She explained succinctly.

 

The Latina dropped on the bench next to Clarke. ''Holy shit! I am really sorry Commander.'' She exclaimed with a shake of her head. Then she turned to the healer and asked. ''Was it one of the kids you were reading to?''

 

Clarke nodded, hands clenching the edge of the table. ''She was. Her funeral is this morning.''

 

''Oh. Want me to braid your hair again?'' The mechanic offered, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. ''At least then my years of tangling and untangling wires will have some use.'' She joked weakly.

 

Lexa's throat dried and she felt her stomach churned. She had forgotten that this girl was the one who had braided Clarke's hair last night. She was ashamed by the jealousy she felt at this moment. Strina was dead. Why did she care about braids?

 

The blonde turned back to her. ''Would it be appropriate? To braid my her for the ceremony?'' She asked softly.

 

Lexa nodded – she didn't trust herself to speak at the moment. She would either cry or challenge Raven to a duel, and neither option was appropriate.

 

She clenched her knees with her fists until it became painful, and the pain helped her center herself again. She considered the young mechanic, forcing herself to think of the possibilities offered by her talents rather than her annoying closeness with the blonde healer.

 

''I will have two guards escort you so you can retrieve your bike during the ceremony, Raven. And I want you to look for anything of the old world that might help me make the attackers talk. My warriors informed me that they still refused to relinquish information.'' She said in a cold voice.

 

The other brunette hesitated. ''Er… I don't think there is anything like that. I mean, cops used to have lying detector, but they were not exactly reliable and you still need the guy to be talking in the first place. And I tried shocking that guy who had taken Octavia, but he did not even scream. Are all your warriors like that?''

 

Lexa felt a mix of pride and disappointment. ''Those that are well trained. Can you really think of nothing? I do not want my novitiates to be attacked again.'' She growled.

 

''I can.'' Clarke spoke up, eyes still on her food.

 

Both brunettes stared at her. Lexa held back a question of why the blonde would know of torture when it seemed in complete opposition with her principles.

 

''I told you I was in solitary for several months. That I almost went crazy. Do you know what you do, when you can't see or talk to another living being for so long? You talk. Because the silence becomes unbearable. I drew faces of my family or friends on the walls, and I talked to them. And I would spend hours with my ear to the door just to make sure there were still people in the Ark besides myself.''

 

She exhaled. ''Your warriors are trained to endure pain. But they are not used to complete isolation, are they?'' Lexa acquiesced slowly, not really convinced.

 

Raven spoke up. ''I had forgotten about it, but there was a kind of torture similar to that. Sensory deprivation. Stories said it was one of the worst thing you could use on a human being.''

 

That sounded more promising than months of waiting. ''Tell me more.'' She demanded, turning to Raven.

 

The brunette looked uncomfortable. ''Er… basically, you put the prisoner in a completely white room, and ensure the only color he can see is white. You only give him white food, he wears white clothes he can't remove on his own. Also, no one enters the room, and you make sure he can hear nothing from the outside. Most people go crazy in a few days, and… well, they never really recover.''

 

Lexa gritted her teeth. She vaguely understood the kind of damages it could do to one's mind. But those traitors would die as soon as she knew what she needed to know. It was a small price to pay to protect the Natblidas.

 

''I will give instructions to prepare such a room. I want you, Raven, to inspect it and confirm that it is ready for use. You will not have to involve yourself further in this.'' She ordered.

 

She looked slightly sick. ''Er, okay. Thanks.''

 

'' _Klark_ , will you join me in an hour in the Natblidas' rooms?'' She asked as she rose. She had to prepare the ceremony.

 

She left the room without waiting for an answer. She knew the blonde would come, anyway.

 

The ceremony was formal, and visibly hard on everyone. All the Natblidas had been taught the prayers to honor Heda before the Conclave, and the gloom such rituals cast on the room was palpable. Lexa was reminded of her own Conclave throughout the ceremony – from when she had honored the previous Heda, to when she had mourned her fellow Natblidas.

 

Titus was, as usual, the one presiding the ceremony. He knew the rituals better than anyone, after serving five Hedas. His speech, however, was new.

 

''It is a rare and regrettable occurrence, when a Natblida dies away from a Conclave. Strina was worthy of her nightblood, but the Spirit chose to send her on a new mission before our next Conclave. When the time of the next Ascension comes, she will be missed and remembered as if she had participated in the Conclave.'' He claimed.

 

Lexa could see Aden's pale face turn to the ground, his face a mix of guilt, pain and relief. She understood what he felt, as she had felt the same weight on her shoulders before. Though she had not been the oldest Natblida at her Conclave, she had been one of the most talented and many had expected her to win once Luna had loudly proclaimed that she refused to fight in the Conclave. As talented as Strina had been, Aden would have most likely won against her.

 

Since she had turned ten and been moved in the same room as his, he had known that he would have to kill her one day. Though she knew he probably felt somewhat responsible for her death now, he was also comforted that he would never have to deliver the fatal blow to the girl that had been like a sister to him for so long.

 

Lexa also noticed the elaborated braids that decorated Clarke's head. She was both happy to see the blonde so involved with the children, and disturbed to think of how long Raven must have been working on her. The blonde had copied the hairdo that the young natblida girls wore when she first met them.

 

She was also touched to see the healer repeat the gestures and the words of the ceremonial prayers, even though she knew that Clarke still refused to believe in the Spirit.

 

After all the prayers were done, they slowly carried Strina's body to the roof of the tower, where the Great Flame burned.

 

The Great Flame was always extinguished after the death of Heda, and lit again with the shared pyre of Heda and the Natblidas that had fallen in the Conclave. Titus had suggested to have a pyre for Strina in the glade where the nightbloods usually trained, but Lexa had refused. She felt that burning a Natblida in any fire but that of a Great Flame would dishonor her memory.

 

Lexa and Aden pushed the body in the fire together, as Heda and the now only Nightblood currently old enough to enter the Conclave. They all stared as it was consumed.

 

The funeral was over. Titus, always one to protest the weight of emotions, gathered the Nightbloods to resume their lessons. Lexa sent him a glare as a silent warning to be more mindful of the shock they had all suffered. Still, there was some logic in keeping them busy right now.

 

Clarke and her stayed long after the children had left.

 

''What is the Conclave, exactly? I did not ask the first time, I figured it was some sort of tests that were dangerous. But unless I am wrong, I have not met any Nightblood around your age. Why?'' The blonde asked quietly.

 

She had moved away from the fire, sitting near the edge of the roof and looking down at the city below.

 

Lexa was still staring at the Flame, despite the ache in her eyes.

 

''When Heda dies, all Natblidas aged ten or older fight in a tournament, until only one remains. The fights are to the death, and those that refused to fight and ran were executed.'' She explained in a pained voice.

 

She did not want to talk about that. Not today. And not here.

 

But Clarke insisted. ''So you had to kill all the kids you were raised with? And when you die, all those kids will have to tear one another apart?'' She asked, horrified. ''I thought your Spirit wanted peace!''

 

Lexa finally turned away from the fire, blinking at the sudden change of light.

 

''One from my Conclave refused to fight, but I managed to convince my advisors to spare her. She had to leave Polis, and is not allowed to ever return to the city. But she is alive.''

 

She walked and dropped next to Clarke, sitting cross-legged. ''The Spirit wants peace. I do not like the Conclave. No Natblida does. And in time, I hope it will not be so deadly.''

 

''You have to understand, _Klark_. Heda protects the people regardless of their original clans. Polis is a neutral territory. But because Heda is admired by all the people, many chiefs want an Heda that has some loyalty to its clan.''

 

''At first, Nightbloods only came to the city when it was time for the Conclave. A few generations ago, Heda announced that all natblidas should be raised in Polis, to be better prepared for their future role. But the chief clans did not want an Heda that would have no loyalty to its birth clans. So after some time in Polis, the nightblood would return and serve as a Seken – a warrior's Second – in his or her birth clan. I was Anya's Seken for four years. That's why people still call me _Leksa kom Trikru_.''

 

''I managed to break this tradition, so my novitiates will never leave the city to return to their first clan where chiefs want to manipulate them. And when I finally united the clans in my Coalition, I gave the ambassadors the power to destitute me through an unanimous vote.''

 

''I hope the fact that an Heda can now be ended by something other than death will allow people to accept that Heda can also be chosen by means other than death. But the Coalition is still too young and fragile right now. The Conclave is a show of strength, to prove that the new Heda is strong enough to protect the people. Right now, we still need that strength.''

 

Clarke's voice had softened compared to her first outburst, but she was still visibly angry at the system.

 

''I understand the history. But it is stupid. And a waste. You spend years training those brilliant kids, grooming them in both powerful warriors and talented diplomats. And in the end, they are only selected on their fighting skills. Winning a fight doesn't mean you can win a war, or argue with a cunning ambassador. Yet, that is what Hedas will have to do from now on, right?'' She pointed out.

 

Lexa nodded. ''Yes. I hope I will live long enough for the Coalition to be more stable, and survive my death. Then, I hope my successor – Aden, most likely – may be able to transform the Conclave.''

 

Clarke turned to her, fire in her eyes. ''Hell, no, Lexa! I am not letting you die until _you_ have changed the Conclave. I am not coming back here to burn another of those kids just because you got yourself killed. You spirit stays where it is until I say otherwise!''

 

Lexa felt a smile tug at her lips. ''You will be stuck in Polis for years, then, Healing Nymph.'' She warned.

 

''I don't mind.'' She replied seriously.

 

Lexa glanced at Clarke's lips, caught the other young woman doing the same, and looked away, blushing, when she realized where her mind had taken her. _The children_. She reminded herself. _Klark is_ _s_ _taying for the children, not for you. Not for that_. And even if Clarke was willing, Lexa did not want a kiss driven by grief. She knew it was natural for desire to arise in such times, but she refused to bow to the demands of her mourning mind.

 

She heard the blonde clear her throat, and mumble that she should see if Raven had made any progress with the radio. Lexa felt her heart clench at the reminder of the other brunette that could hug or touch Clarke so freely. She wanted such closeness with the healer, longed for the physical comfort she had seen her provide the young Nightbloods with, but had no idea how to ask for it.

 

She had no wish for their interaction to end on an awkward note, so she reverted back to a more official tone.

 

''Your wood should be delivered today. For the chessboard. And your other companion, Murphy – I do not know what to do with him.''

 

Clarke paused. ''Well, if I am busy with the nightbloods and the radio, and the books… Maybe I can convince Murphy to help me carve those pieces, until we find some other occupation for him. I'll talk to him once I am done with Raven.'' She offered.

 

''Warn me once you have managed to talk to your people. I would like to see it. And I expect they will be impatient to get to the ground since the air is so poor in your old home.'' Lexa commented.

 

Clarke chuckled. ''I bet they will be. See you soon, Lexa.''

 

She paused again at the top of the stairs, and turned to Lexa again.

 

The brunette rose an eyebrow in question.

 

''No offense, Commander, but… For what you plan, you will need a new Fleimkeepa. This Titus is too old and set in his old ways. He reminds me of some of the Council members in the Ark. I am guessing he is the one sprouting around that love is weakness, right? I never thought one could remain so stoic while burying a child he basically raised.''

 

And with that, she left.

 

Lexa stayed where she was, considering. Titus was a good teacher, and she had a hard time picturing a Flame keeper with another face. She knew he had had an apprentice many years ago, that had died in an accident a couple years after she was brought to Polis. She wasn't sure she had ever seen the boy, or if she had simply been too young to remember his face.

 

Since then, Titus had never found a satisfying apprentice again, but Lexa had not exactly seen him actively searching for one either. Though Flame keepers had a much better longevity than Hedas, Titus _was_ getting older.

 

More worrying was the fact that he was the only one – apart from Lexa – who knew the rites to pass on the Flame to the next Commander. If he and Lexa were killed, none of her natblidas would be able to inherit the title of Commander, regardless of their talents.

 

And Clarke was right that Titus was too set in his ways. He had been one of those most opposed of the idea of destituing Heda through a vote, and constantly reminded the Natblidas of their future Conclave – even the youngest, Rawon and Niom, who had only arrived a few month ago.

 

She should encourage him to start teaching an apprentice of his own. And if – or rather when – he resisted the idea as he had whenever Lexa had erred near that particular subject before, she would insist that the recent attack made it necessary.

 

Briefly, she entertained the idea of recommending Clarke – she could read, knew the Nightbloods and was already participating in their teaching. But she rejected the notion quickly. As pleasing as it seemed, it was better if the roles of healer and Flame keeper stayed separate. One was to take care of the bodies. The other had to be devoted to the Spirit and the Flame.

 

Decided, Lexa rose to her feet. She had to meet with Gustus, and try this white room torture if the prisoners were still tight-lipped. Then she would meet the ambassadors – it would be brief, as no real decisions could be taken while Azgeda had no official representative.

 

And then she would have a private audience with Titus and excuse him for the rest of the day, to allow him to work on his criterias for his future apprentice. She would give him a month to find one. If he couldn't find anyone satisfying by then, she would choose for him.


	13. Life is a game (of chess)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Clarke returned to her rooms and was delighted to see a package containing a square, flat piece of wood, along with three dozens of small rough cylinders and a carving knife. She decided to enjoy some time alone before checking on Raven's progress and finding Murphy. And it would allow her to try and carve some models for pawns, horses and castles if the boy accepted to help her.

 

An hour later, she really hoped Murphy would agree. Carving was definitely not like drawing, and she much preferred drawing. She had nicked her fingers several times – of course she had healed instantly, but the frequent sharp pain was no less bothersome. She threw aside the pieces and the knife and started darkening small squares on the flat piece of wood to fashion a chess board.

 

Once that was done, she put everything back in the package, and went in search of Murphy. A quick inquiry to one of her guards and she was guided to a room close to Raven's – she should have guessed as much, really, but she felt like her mind was boiling with all that was happening lately.

 

She knocked on his open door and waited until he waved at her to enter.

 

''Long time no see, Princess. Raven told me I couldn't go exploring the city because a kid died?'' He said, his drawl less marked than usual.

 

Perhaps he was remembering Charlotte as well. She knew he had not really wanted the girl dead. She had mostly been a mean to get back to Bellamy. He had looked as horrified as she felt when she jumped off the cliff.

 

''Yes.'' She replied. ''And turns out none of those kids – or any grounder, actually – has ever played chess or other board games. Since we are stuck in here for now, I wondered if you would help me carve some pieces? I hope teaching them the game will take their minds of… well, everything.''

 

Murphy smirked. ''So, now you are _encouraging_ me to play with a knife? You weren't exactly fond of that, at first.''

 

She rolled her eyes. ''You will be chopping wood, not heads!'' She reminded.

 

He shrugged. ''Sounds good. I have nothing else to do anyway. Yesterday I went exploring the city – Polis, right? – and I wanted to try and climb on the walls around it today, but…''

 

He paused. ''You say there are no board games? At all?''

 

''I have seen some guards play something like the jacks and cards, but that's it. Most people can't read, so any complex game has been lost I assume. No one to figure out the rules, even if the board actually survived the bombs.'' She offered. ''Why do you ask?''

 

''I played a lot of games with my dad, before chief asshole threw him out. And I have no idea how long I will be stuck here, or what I will do.''

 

Clarke sat on a chair. ''The Commander would accept you taking an apprenticeship with a craftsman, or a hunter. We can't be freeloaders forever, but no grounder will harm you again unless you harm them first.'' She reassured.

 

Murphy grabbed the package in her hands and rummaged through it. ''Well, I spent the last couple of years convinced I would die as soon as I turned eighteen, so I never really thought of what kind of job I would like to do. And those things are pretty different down here anyway.''

 

He paused, staring at her carved model of a knight. ''Say what, Princess? I offer you a deal. I carve your chess things, and you find a way to provide me with more paper, wood, cardboard or the likes. And paint.''

 

Clarke was confused. ''What are you gonna do with all that?''

 

He grinned. ''Boardgames. Cards. Time to teach the gloomy grounders how to have fun, old world style. And if you use your 'Healing Nymph' aura to give me some publicity, I'll let you have a percentage of the benefits.''

 

''I thought I was already providing all the materials?'' She pointed out, amused. ''But okay. One condition: I have one copy of each game free of charge. I will teach them to the children of the Tower – the Commander's novitiates. I am sure she will agree to your business adventure if she likes the games. So I would focus on military and management games at first.'' She advised with a wink.

 

She rose and left the room, only popping her head back in briefly to say. ''Oh, and I want these pieces by the end of the week!''

 

She let a small smile play on her face as she walked the short way to Raven's. Finally, she had one less thing to think about – Murphy was staying in line for the time being.

 

Raven was busy connecting wires and securing screws when she walked in. An old, rusty and crooked bike was stucked in the nearby corner.

 

Clarke looked at it dubiously. ''Does that thing even work anymore?''

 

The mechanic shrugged, unconcerned. ''I just need the pedals and chain set. I am not planning on touring the city with it, remember?''

 

The blonde shuffled from one foot to the other, feeling her impatience build up. ''So? When can we talk to the Ark?''

 

She earned a long suffering look. ''I know you were more of a bio and chemistry nerd, but you still understand basic physic and astronomy, right? We will have a powered, patched up and working radio tomorrow night at the latest. But contacting the Ark… Well it depends more on where _they_ are than on what _we_ do. I don't have anything to boost the signal. If the Ark is hovering over Europe, I can't reach them.'' She scolded.

 

She felt her shoulders drop and she slumped against the wall. ''I know. It's just…'' She waved helplessly.

 

''You want to know if your mother is okay.'' Raven guessed.

 

Her mother. It had actually been a while since she actually thought about her. What would she think of Clarke's actions? Revealing her secret, fraternizing with the Commander of the grounders and teaching her novitiates, while her own people where trapped inside the Ark or the Mountain.

 

She stared at the radio to buy herself some more time as she thought about her response. Part of her was convinced that her mother was dead. That she had planned to use the recording of her father for a while, and that it was the reason she came when Clarke was put in the dropship – the last words and actions of a mother who tried to save her child before sacrificing herself.

 

Of course, she hoped her mother was still alive, and would be able to come to the ground. But the part of her that was already mourning refused to acknowledge that hope. It was hard enough to think of herself as an orphan, she did not want to add disappointed hope on the list of her current turmoils.

 

''In part, yeah.'' She finally answered. ''Mostly, I think I just want all this to be over as soon as possible.'' She confessed.

 

Raven smiled. ''Don't worry your cute head, Griffin. It might take time, but they still have a good few weeks of oxygen up there. I am impatient to see Sinclair and the rest of my team again, but they'll get there eventually. And then we can all return to the Ark – or, well, the Exodus ships and whatever camp they set up.''

 

The Latina patted her shoulder comfortingly. ''The priority is the rest of the hundred inside Mount Weather.'' She reminded her. ''How are things advancing for that?''

 

Clarke gaped. With all that had happened, she hadn't even thought about coming up with a plan since Lexa forbade her to rush to the Mountain the other night.

 

''Er…'' She started eloquently.

 

Raven stared at her, her gaze turning accusing.

 

Clarke cleared her throat. ''It's… There has been so many things going on… And I have to take care of those kids, and protect Lexa – the Commander.'' She tried weakly.

 

Raven slammed her hand on the table. ''Look, I know a kid died and that's tragic. But _our friends_ are possibly being used as guinea pigs right now. This is not the moment to play family with the Commander! Hell, did you hear her at breakfast? She wants us to advise her on torture? I said I would pay back for everything destroyed in that village, but as soon as that's done, I'm out! I'm going back to _our_ people!''

 

Clarke bristled at the accusations directed at Lexa's character. ''Do you think she enjoyed that? If she doesn't find who ordered the attack, more kids could die!'' She argued, voice rising.

 

Raven scroffed and pointed an accusing finger at her. ''They are not your people! And they have dozens of warriors protecting them! Our friends need you! Finn spent days looking for you! He _died_ looking for you and Octavia!''

 

The brunette started crying, and Clarke cautiously approached to wrap her in a hug. Raven fought her at first, but soon laid her head against her shoulder as she sobbed.

 

''If you had been here… You could have saved him. He just wanted to help. He shouldn't have died.'' She continued more quietly in between her sobs.

 

Clarke tightened her hold, thinking back on Atom, Jasper and Wells, who had died because she did not or could not use her gift to save them. She felt tears well up in her own eyes and, this time, she let them fall.

 

''I am sorry. I am so, so sorry.'' She cried softly in the mechanic's hair.

 

She wasn't only talking to Raven.

 

Eventually, the brunette broke from her arms and brushed her cheeks with her sleeve. She was not as accusing as before, but Clarke could see in her eyes that her anger had not completely abated, though most of it had morphed into disappointment. She wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

 

''I am loyal to the Ark and the rest of the delinquents. I just thought you were too.''

 

Clarke shook her head in protest. ''I am.'' She insisted. ''I am. But I can't just ignore kids in danger.'' She defended.

 

Raven rose her eyebrows. ''Like our friends?''

 

Clarke threw her arms up. ''What do you want me to do? It's a bunker! They have Reapers and acid fog guarding it! And I don't even know if they want me to help them! They didn't exactly rise to my defense when Bellamy was growing more aggressive.'' She pointed out.

 

Raven deflated. ''Okay, maybe that was a bit unfair. But I can tell you most of the delinquents missed you. Finn always had volunteers when he announced he was going to go search for you again, even though Bellamy repeated that you were dead. And they all told me about how you got things organized and ensured everyone had food and shelter. Monty missed you a lot, said you were the only friend he had left.''

 

Clarke looked away, feeling guilty. She had not really thought of how the others would manage without her when she decided not to return. She was more focused on not crossing paths with Bellamy again. And, honestly, she had been relieved to be free of the other delinquents for a while – no one to argue when she was just trying to help, to call her Princess when she asked someone to go forage for food. Hell, _she_ had been the only one who had not had the rushed additional classes in Earth skills, not them. Why was it her fault they did not manage as well without her?

 

With a sigh, and still focused on the wall behind the mechanic, Clarke replied.

 

''Lex… The Commander wants to make the Mountain fall. If we can find away to disable the fog and open the gates, I am sure she will provide the army. I talked to her about it, once. But it's going to take time to gather so many warriors, and she won't call them unless we have a good plan. What are the chances of our friends still being there by then?'' She finished, defeated.

 

Raven sat back on her bench. ''You think they are lost.''

 

''I don't know what I think. Why did they take them in the first place? It's quite obvious we are not from the ground. Will they be treated differently from the captured grounders? Or will they be tested on, turned into Reapers? I wish I knew more. I wish I had some idea of how much time I have.''

 

Raven tinkered with the radio, twisting one button and pressing another. ''Okay, Griffin. Let's do this: you ask the big bad Commander what she knows about the Mountain – everything, from motives to defenses and weapons – and I'll try to come up with ways to counter those.''

 

Clarke rolled her eyes. ''Deal. And don't call her that.''

 

Raven stared at her, unblinking. ''Still gonna say that you don't like her like that?''

 

''Weren't you the one just accusing me of disloyalty?'' The blonde asked, bewildered at the sudden turn in conversation.

 

The mechanic shrugged. ''Didn't really know you before, from the Ark. You look more and more like a grounder to me – like Octavia. So as long as you help get our friends out, I won't judge.''

 

She paused to find her gaze before she continued. ''You are not returning to the Ark when it comes down, are you? You seem pretty settled here, and it has only been a few days.'' She observed.

 

Clarke hesitated. At first, returning to the Ark had seemed like the logical things to do. They were her people.

 

But since Lexa had offered for her to stay, she had been thinking. What reasons did she, personally, have to return to the Ark? Her mother was probably dead, and would probably be more than welcome in Polis if she was somehow still alive. And if she took her mother out of the equation, what did she have in the Ark?

 

Thelonious had killed her father and imprisoned her in complete seclusion for nearly a year, with little concern for her mental health. Her very few friends were dead or captured. She had been estranged from most people her age because of her privileged status, and spent almost all her free time in medical helping her mother. She knew a lot of faces, but that was all they were to her in the end. Faces. Nameless, for the most part.

 

In Polis, though… She had found an unexpected friend in Lexa. And perhaps also in Murphy, if he truly started his game commerce and stayed. She already loved the Nightbloods. She had not really interacted with a lot of children on the Ark, since births were usually grouped over a couple of years every six to eight years or so, to facilitate the organization of rations and classes.

 

Moreover, she did not have to hide her abilities – granted she could do without the worship and assassination attempts, but she no longer had to watch people die when she could save them, or look over her shoulder when she decided to help.

 

''I don't know what I will do.'' She eventually answered.

 

Because she knew what she wanted to do, but she felt guilty about it. She never thought she would ever feel like she didn't belong with the Arkers, because she had never known there were others people alive. She had never had reason to choose sides before. And now duty pulled her in one direction while her heart yearned to join the other side.

 

She decided now would be a good time to visit the city. The Tower had been on lock down all night and the list of people allowed in and out was short, but Lexa had told her that she was on it, in case she wished to join the healers as she had done almost daily. The only condition was that she would be escorted, and must not talk to anyone about what had happened.

 

Today, however, she felt restless and doubted she could stomach attending to a dozen of sick or wouded people. Murphy had talked of exploring the city, and she realized, with some surprise, that she had yet to do that herself. She explained her desire to one of her guards, knowing it was better if Lexa knew where she had gone, in case her abilities were needed.

 

Soon, she was walking around Polis, taking turns at random, fascinated.

 

From afar, she had been stunned by the way the grounders had used the old buildings, despite the way both bombs and time had ruined most of those. She had liked the bright patches of colour of linen drying or of big clothes replacing windows or doors. It contrasted with the almost constant grey she had known in the Ark. She found that the effect was no less impressive from the streets, but this was not what truly fascinated her.

 

Life inside the Tower was overly serious, and she had seen few objects that did not have a practical purpose in the several rooms. Strangely – and stupidly – she had thought that what she saw in the Tower was representative of what grounder life looked like.

 

The people from Polis were nothing like the often emotionless warriors she had met. She saw men bargaining goods with many expressive gestures, women chatting in groups and parents laughing at their children's antics. The jacks and cards proved more common than she had first thought, but was truly surprised her was when she paused to observe two children playing.

 

She could not recognize the game.

 

Card and board games were well known in the Ark, because it was one of the few ways to keep occupied without using any additional ressources, like electricity or even oxygen. Physical exercise had basically been forbidden, and movies or reading was limited to a few hours a day. Therefore, any teenager knew all the games from the old world one could play with a stack of cards. Yet, the one those kids were playing at was unknown to her.

 

It was new.

 

Shaken by this discovery, she payed closer attention to what people were doing. She saw teenagers playing a music she had never heard before with makeshift instruments that only vaguely ressembled the images she had seen in digital books on art. She saw children playing on colored stiles. She heard a man tell what sounded like a tale – she really should work on her _Trigedasleng_ – to toddlers. She could recognize some basic elements as similar to some tales of the old world, but all the details were different.

 

She could see a culture.

 

But more disconcerting was the fact that she could not recall such a culture in the Ark. Yes, they enjoyed music, played games and the likes. But all those came from the old world. A hundred years in space, with access to the best technology humanity had ever managed to build, and yet they had created nothing. Even her ideals and the future world she had imagined had been nothing but an improved copy of the old world.

 

The only thing she could think of had been the almost religious way Kane's mother treated the small tree they had. But even that was more a symbol of the Earth they would return to than an actual new religion.

 

Arkers had survived, and she had thought that this was what grounders had done too. But she had been wrong. They had not just survived, they had _thrived_. Arkers had delighted in their safety and the promise of returning to Earth, and it was as if progress and creativity had stopped while they floated in space. They lived in a constant nostalgia of what had been destroyed by the bombs, and their only purpose was to survive so that their descendants might one day rebuild everything. Rebuild. Nostalgia again.

 

The grounders had suffered the bombs directly, along with all its consequence. The world had been destroyed before their eyes, and the survivors had fought over what was left. Yet, it had not stopped them from living. And instead of copying a world that had destroyed itself, they had started to build a new world that suited them and their needs.

 

It was an humbling realization, and she walked back to the Tower still uncertain of what she should do. She liked what Lexa was trying to build, but she was slowly accepting that the world she had dreamed of on Earth would not appear overnight. Could she really learn and accept a whole new culture, that was often so different from the Ark, for possibly the rest of her life?

 

The rest of the week was divided between attempts to contact the Ark – they paused those when Clarke realized she couldn't locate the Ark at night, meaning it would be a couple of days before it hovered over the East Coast again – and her duties to Lexa.

 

She asked the Commander for everything she knew about the Mountain, but it was unfortunately very little. Raven and her worked on the acid fog problem, but without knowing what exactly it was made of, they soon reached an impasse. Instead, the mechanic showed Clarke how to operate the radio so she could continue the attempts once the Ark was in range again. Meanwhile, she would go back to the dropship to salvage the solar panels.

 

And she would also collect the hydrazine. This last part had been a point of contentious with Lexa for two days. The Commander was understandably uneasy with the idea of a dangerous and unstable substance in her home. She only relented when Clarke explained that it could be turned into weapons against the Mountain – Raven and her had figured that they could try to just blow up door, if they ever managed to get pass the fog – and that it could be stored somewhere else until they needed it. Lexa had had an old concrete building outside of town cleared up of everything it contained, and warned that it would be heavily guarded.

 

The ones who had attacked the nightbloods eventually cracked and spilled out that the attempt had been ordered by the Queen of Azgeda. Unfortunately, they had no idea _why_ the queen was targeting the novitiates, or what else she might have planned. They did, however, reveal the name of an agent in the kitchens of the Tower – who was promptly stuffed in the white room after watching the beheading of her fellow prisoners.

 

Clarke knew that the Commander was frustrated by her lack of possibilities to retaliate. If she decided to attack Azgeda – as was her right – it would break the Coalition. So for now she had kept the information quiet. However, not retaliating if the information became public would be seen as weakness, and a betrayal of _jus drein jus daun_.

 

She wondered if there was any sort of spying network in this society. The one working in the kitchen had only been here for a few months, and Lexa had confided to Clarke that she had been watching her since poison had been found in the Natblidas' meal a few weeks ago, and had only let her free for so long because she had no proof.

 

All in all, compared to what she had learned in history, or read in fantasy and sci-fi books, the poisoning attempt had been very poorly executed.

 

It made sense, in a way. With only a partial and orally transmitted inheritance from the old world, skills like stealth, infiltration and the recovering of information had most likely lost a good portion of its finesse. It would not have been as vital as finding food and shelter and fighting in the first decades that followed the apocalypse. And with honor and vows being seen as almost sacred – she was still unsure of how exactly their religion or beliefs worked – it might even be seen as blasphemous.

 

But now that Lexa had managed to reintroduce politics, negotiations and international relations, information was becoming more valuable. Just a few years ago, the assassination would have been answered with a war. Now, Clarke could see the other woman torn between her desire for revenge and security, and her unwillingness to sacrifice the Coalition. She was almost visibly fuming at the impossibility to achieve both.

 

She decided to broach the subject during one lunch. They were alone, the children were slowly recovering from the trauma of the past week and Lexa had just huffed in frustration for the third time in the duration of the meal.

 

''Do you know what a spy is?'' She asked. She had no idea if there was even a word for it in Trigedasleng.

 

The Commander furrowed her brow. ''No. I have never heard this word before.''

 

Clarke nodded. Hopefully, that meant she would not seem like a fool trying to share uncomplete knowledge of something the other woman had learned over ten years ago. ''It is a person that stays hidden to observe and gather information.''

 

Lexa seemed confused. ''That is the definition of a scout. Why introduce me to a word that means the same thing?''

 

The blonde pinched the bridge of her nose. Explaining the concept might be more complicated than she expected. Until meeting Lexa, she had never realized how complicated it could be to give precise definitions of concepts she had always thought she knew well. From what she had seen so far, honor and loyalty were extremely important in their culture – that three warriors had conspired to kill one of Heda's novitiates had been almost incomprehensible to them.

 

A spy was often toeing those lines between loyalty and betrayal.

 

''No, a spy is different from a scout.'' She replied. ''A scout works on battlefields, or frontiers, right?'' She asked for confirmation, knowing the simplification of language that had been used to go from English to Trigedasleng had likely fused together some definitions. Perhaps spies were just another kind of scout to Lexa's people.

 

The brunette nodded, and leaned towards her. Clarke fought back a smile. The other woman was often like this, almost childish with eagerness, when Clarke introduced her to new – or, really, old – concepts that she sensed could be useful.

 

''A spy… A spy will gather information from within an enemy's stronghold. He or she will pose as a servant or a warrior of the enemy and listen to whatever is said by the enemy or those close to him. He will report all the information and rumors back to his true leader.''

 

''You mean someone that betrays his former leader, and joins a new one offering information as a token of good faith?'' Lexa tried, though Clarke could see that the brunette knew she was missing something.

 

She shook her head. ''There is no betrayal. It is… deceit? The spy is working for his leader, but pretends to work for another in order to gain knowledge. He is loyal. He just hides who he is loyal to. And sometimes, he has to do things to make the other leader truly believe that he is loyal to him. But the ultimate purpose is always to provide information to his real leader.''

 

Lexa fidgeted uncomfortably on her seat. ''You think those traitors were spys?'' She asked.

 

Clarke sighed. That was not exactly her point, but it needed to be discussed as well. ''In the worst case, yes, they were. But I think they would have told you if they were – they seem to have been threatened in the attempt, with their families held hostages. It doesn't mean Nia did not get some information out of them, though.'' She cautioned.

 

The Commander nodded and tapped her fingers against the wood of the table. Clarke let her work through everything she had said. She was incredibly smart, and had always picked up on the concepts Clarke presented her with incredibly quickly.

 

This time was no exception. She saw the eyes widen in realization and then narrow in consideration.

 

In a slow, deliberate voice, she spoke up. ''You think I should send spies in Azgeda.''

 

Clarke shook her head nervously. ''Azgeda would be a good start. But my real advice would be to send spies to all the clans.'' She saw Lexa's fist clench and hurriedly continued. ''If your Coalition holds, you will not be fighting your future wars on a battlefield, but inside your throne room. It takes time for messages to go back and forth from between any clan and Polis. I have only attended a few of your meetings with the ambassadors, but isn't that one of your main problems? You have to rely on what they tell you is true, and you don't always have the time to verify it before the agreement is signed.'' She pointed out.

 

Lexa relaxed her hands and turned more thoughtful.

 

''Imagine how easier and safer it would be if you already knew what they told you from another reliable source? Or if you knew for a fact they were lying?'' She insisted, driving her point home.

 

The brunette nodded and gestured for her to continue.

 

''In the old world, almost all the countries had a spying network. It takes time, and resources, to establish one. You need to be absolutely certain of the loyalty of those you choose, and you have to find a way for them to safely communicate with you, and your successors. And you will need to be smart on what you do with the information they bring you, because you can't blow their cover. Ideally, you have to work out a system where most of your spys don't know the others – that way, if one gets caught he can't give more names to your enemies.'' She explained.

 

Lexa seemed both enthralled and disappointed. ''It is dishonourable, but I cannot deny the many interests of all you describe. However, to properly build this… network, it would take years. I cannot let Nia do as she pleases for so long.''

 

''True. About that, I was wondering…''

 

She paused, unsure. Lexa pressed her lips together, and Clarke was convinced this expression meant she was containing an amused smile.

 

''Yes, _Klark_?''

 

She really shouldn't like hearing Lexa say her name so much.

 

''Well… The clans have ambassadors in Polis, but I have never heard anything about ambassadors of the Commander in the clans?'' She smiled widely.

 

Lexa's jaw dropped briefly before the young woman schooled her stunned expression and Clarke chuckled at the sight.

 

''It would certainly disturb Nia to have someone loyal to me so close to her…'' She said. ''But the life expectancy of that person would be severely reduced. And many clans might see this as a show of distrust, or my interfering in matters that do not directly concern the Coalition.''

 

The Commander rose and paced along the length of the table. Clarke resumed the eating she had interrupted to expose her idea to Lexa.

 

''I am already trying to find an apprentice for Titus, in case he won't find one himself. I can use these interviews to find a dozen ambassadors – the qualities needed would be quite similar. And it would be a good way to find out what the people of each clans think of my efforts and the Coalition.''

 

Clarke smirked. ''It is also the opportunity to find what kind of jobs are not overly controlled, and perhaps a few discontent servants or warriors who could be convinced to loosen their tongues. The information will be obtained much more… obviously than with proper spies, but if that move is as bold as you seem to think, it should throw Nia off.''

 

Lexa paused in her pacing. ''We will have to be careful. A frightened or cornered animal is likely to lash out.'' She warned, rubbing her temples. ''I confess I find it disturbing, how easily such traitorous and dishonourable ideas appear in your mind.''

 

She smiled, eyes sparkling. ''It has a lot of potential, though.''

 

''Well, overt opposition on the Ark was unlikely to earn you anything but a quick death. Our leaders were not as involved in their people's well-being as you are. And many stories of spies were famous – both real and fictional ones.'' The blonde replied.

 

Clarke grinned and put down her fork. ''Also… I know I'm supposed to work on the books in the afternoon, but Murphy brought me the full chess set just before lunch, so…'' She suggested.

 

Lexa turned towards the door. ''Then it is a good thing I am the one in charge of the _natblidas_ ' lessons this afternoon, and not Titus. He remains unconvinced that your teachings are useful.'' She remarked, exasperation coloring her tone.

 

Clarke rolled her eyes. The man had actually come to her library earlier in the week to advise her to 'limit the subjects of her lessons to realistic and useful ones'. He was unhappy since the Commander ordered him to find another apprentice, and she suspected he knew that she had been the one to suggest it.

 

Not that she had listened, of course. In fact, she had made a point of finding an old speech from a famous author of the twentieth century – J. K. Rowling – which talked about failure and imagination. Two subjects Titus clearly hated. It had been delightful to explain all the Harry Potter references, and to see the frown on the Flame keeper's face grow with the amount of details.

 

The children had loved the story, and since she had found the whole series a few days ago, she was now reading the first book as a bedtime story. Aden was slowly reading _The Hobbit_ on his own, to improve his skills in both English and reading – and, she suspected, as a way to honour Strina's memory since the girl had loved the beginning of the story.

 

Soon, they were in the room they used for the nightbloods lessons, and Clarke set up the board. She pointed to each piece, demonstrating how it moved. Then she explained the more general rules.

 

Aden studied the board. ''So, the purpose is to take the other king?'' He asked.

 

''Without losing your own, yes.'' Clarke confirmed. ''How about Lexa tries against me so you can watch?''

 

She had noticed that the young woman was often uncomfortable in situations she did not fully control or understand, and could not pass an opportunity to tease her. Murphy was right about one thing at least – the people living in that Tower needed to laugh more.

 

And she knew the kids absolutely loved Lexa. They wouldn't care if she lost to Clarke. It was time the brunette realized it as well.

 

Said brunette looked extremely put out to be put on the spot like that, but the eager enthusiasm of the children could not be denied. Generously, Clarke allowed her to choose the color.

 

She chose white and opened the game.

 

Clarke grinned. She had played countless matches with Wells in the Ark, and had sometimes played against herself in solitary. She knew all the tricks. She moved her first pawn with a flourish and smiled cheekily at her opponent. Lexa's eyes narrowed and she studied the board for a while. But it was too soon to try and find out a strategy, especially as she was unfamiliar with the game. She sent out a knight.

 

Three moves later, Clarke announced in a very satisfied tone. ''Checkmate.''

 

Lexa stared at the board, bewildered, mouth open.

 

Clarke forced herself to hold back her laughter at first. Years of military and strategic training beaten in four moves in a _game_ so simplistic was bound to be quite a shock.

 

She couldn't hold back forever, though.

 

Her chuckles triggered those of the children, who had never seen their Heda like that. The young woman blushed, but eventually joined them when she realized that there was no malice in the sound – just a gentle mocking.

 

Once everyone had mostly sobered up, she asked. ''How did you do that? Can it be countered?''

 

Clarke smiled. This was supposed to be a lesson, after all.

 

So, she pointed the weakness of the pawn that was only defended by the king, and then showed the different moves again, letting Lexa and the Nightbloods figure out ways to counteract each of them. She also explained that this move – the Scholar's move – was really only possible at the very beginning.

 

Then she proposed another match to Lexa. She countered her own attempt to duplicate the moves, and soon the real match began in earnest.

 

As Clarke had expected, the Commander improved quickly once she assimilated the moves and how the different pawns could work together. She still lost the second match, but Clarke had sacrificed many pieces to earn her victory, and she got the feeling that Lexa had been testing out strategies more than she had tried to win. Then they gave over the board to the Nightbloods and watched as they took turns in pairs while Lexa improvised a small lecture.

 

''The king can symbolize the people. They are not completely helpless, but lack the skills of properly trained warriors. If their usual abode is no longer safe, you must not hesitate to move them to a safer location, even if it makes you feel uncomfortable.'' She added after one of the children lost a match because he missed an opportunity to move his king away from a threat.

 

''The queen is the Commander.'' She affirmed next. ''It is powerful and can move around more easily than the others. But it can still be sacrificed.''

 

Clarke kicked her in the shin at that last sentence. She was tired of seeing half of those lessons turn into talks of death and sacrifice.

 

Lexa threw her an exasperated glare as she continued. ''However, it should be preserved whenever possible, for its abilities are unique and more likely to aid you than a pawn.'' She conceded.

 

Titus entered the room and bowed to his Heda.

 

'' _Heda_. Indra is here with two prisoners. She said they claimed to be from the… dropship.'' He announced, stumbling on the unfamiliar word. ''They claim to have escaped from the Mountain.''

 

 


	14. News from the Mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Clarke perked up at these news. She jumped onto her feet, while Lexa slowly rose from her chair. She resisted the urge to stamp her foot down and tell her to hurry up. If Titus wasn't here, she might have, but she knew the Flame keeper was a lot less tolerant than his Commander with this kind of behaviour.

 

''Have Indra bring them to the throne room. The _Natblidas_ can occupy themselves by practicing chess while we attend this matter.'' She stated.

 

They only had a flight of stairs to climb to reach the throne room, and Clarke used the time to ask.

 

''Who is Indra?''

 

''She is one of the _Trikru_ generals, and the chief of _Tondisi_ , one of the main villages. I have known her for a long time, and I trust her judgment though she is often… overly wary. If she didn't have so many responsibilities to her clan, I would like to have her in Polis by my side.'' Lexa explained.

 

The Commander sat on her throne, and Clarke assumed her now usual position by her side. She rocked on the back of her heels.

 

''You seem extremely eager to meet them.'' Lexa observed.

 

Clarke glanced at her. ''You repeated again and again that my companions were lost, that no one ever escaped the Mountain. If they have, they might have invaluable information – what's happening to my friends, to your people, ways inside the bunker.'' She listed.

 

Lexa looked slightly surprised. ''You are not happy at the possibility of one of your friends being in Polis?''

 

''I am trying not to get my hopes up. I had very few friends, so the probability…''

 

She was interrupted by the doors opening, and Lexa automatically straightened in her seat. She started addressing a dark woman with short hair and tattoos, but Clarke ignored her as soon as her eyes landed on the face of the boy following her.

 

''Monty!'' She squealed, abandoning all decorum and running forward to hug him. Though his hands were bound, he rushed to her when he heard her shout and held onto her for dear life. She felt silent tears wet her shoulder where his face was pressed and whispered comfortingly.

 

It took her a while to realize that her outburst had stunned everyone else in the room. She looked back at the throne to see Lexa give her a tight smile, eyes swarming with a mix of feelings that she could not identify. She looked somewhat… displeased, among other things. Clarke winced apologetically. Her actions had been very far from the stoic attitude she was supposed to assume in the throne room.

 

She was trying to work out the knots of the rope binding Monty's wrists when a voice behind the boy made her froze.

 

''Clarke?''

 

She took a step back and locked her eyes with the disheveled boy she had failed to notice before.

 

''Bellamy.'' She greeted coldly.

 

Why did it have to be him? There were almost eighty delinquents trapped in Mount Weather. Why did _he_ have to be one of the two who escaped?

 

She tugged on Monty's rope to move him away from Bellamy and closer to the throne. She noticed from the corner of her eye that Lexa had risen at her sudden change of tone.

 

'' _Klark_?'' She asked.

 

She kept her eyes trained on him. Did he still have his gun? No, surely the general would have taken away all the weapons before bringing them to the Commander.

 

Better safe than sorry, though. She positioned herself in front of Lexa, shielding her.

 

'' _Klark_?'' Lexa asked again, worry starting to color her tone.

 

''Bellamy is the one who pushed me onto the spikes.''

 

The effect this simple declaration brought was impressive. At a single gesture from Lexa, two warriors pinned the boy down, twisting his bounded arms in a painful position, and he was thoroughly patted to search for any concealed weapon.

 

The general looked mildly affronted by the procedure.

 

''I already searched them, _Heda_.''

 

''I have no doubt you did, Indra.'' The guards nodded in confirmation that the boy was unarmed. ''I will trust your judgement, _Klark_. The Monty boy can go free, but this Bellamy cannot be trusted.''

 

She felt a push against her side as Lexa leaned closer to whisper next to her hear. ''He can't harm anyone now. Let me pass.''

 

She grudgingly stepped aside and watched as the Commander walked up to the boy, taking the time to study him. Bellamy tried to say something and was immediately shaken by one of the guards.

 

After a few seconds, Lexa turned back to her.

 

''You are the one he harmed. He committed no crime against my people, but I will abide by your judgment.''

 

''Er…'' She had never really planned to face Bellamy again, so she had absolutely no idea what to do. ''He hurt Raven too. I think I should discuss it with her before deciding anything.'' She said.

 

Lexa frowned but nodded. ''He will be put in a cell until you decide.''

 

''Will I be able to talk to him?'' She asked.

 

The brunette seemed surprised. ''Why would you want to? My guards can interrogate him for you.''

 

''I want to hear what he knows about the Mountain. And other things.'' She stated.

 

She wasn't sure how she was supposed to judge Bellamy. As far as she knew, he had only hurt Raven and herself, and both of them were now fine. She couldn't let what he did go unpunished, obviously, but she couldn't accuse him of murder when there were no victims. And she had no idea what he went through in Mount Weather.

 

''Very well. But your guards will accompany you when you do.''

 

Clarke turned her head to hide her rolling eyes. It was cute, in a way, that Lexa was so overly protective with her. But she still felt like those warriors were wasted on her – she was the one person most likely to survive an assassination. Despite having witnessed it herself twice, the other young woman was still reluctant to allow her outside of the Tower without half a dozen of guards. And when she had decided to visit the orchard, she had had to argue for nearly an hour when the Commander first assigned her ten guards.

 

On the Ark, private space was important. The apartments of each family were small, so what little space you had needed to be strictly your own. Since she arrived in Polis, she had realized that it was very different for the grounders. There was so much space that it was easy to find solitude if you wished to be alone.

 

Unless, of course, a small army had been ordered to follow you around. After claiming that this absolute lack of privacy irritated her, Clarke had finally obtained the authorization to leave the city walls with only two guards. And she could ask them to stay at a small distance if she wished.

 

Lexa had also invited her to observe the nightbloods training in a nearby glade. Her status as personal healer of the Commander made her one of the very few people allowed in this sacred clearing. She was happy to see the trees more often. She had not realized how much she had missed them since arriving in the Tower.

 

Clarke shook her head and turned to Monty. She finished untying his hands and ignored Bellamy's protests as the guards dragged him out of the room.

 

''How are you? Did you really escape the Mountain? And the rest, how are they?'' She asked frantically, while looking him up and down, scanning for injury.

 

The boy smiled as he rubbed his wrists, looking around the room, eyes lingering on the Commander.

 

''I am well, Clarke. Hell, I'm ecstatic! I thought you were dead! And here you are – wherever that is! What happened to you?''

 

''Er… long story.'' She felt Lexa approaching her and turned. ''Oh, this is the Commander. She is the leader of the grounders, basically. Commander, this is my friend Monty. He was one of the few that supported me since the beginning.''

 

It was really much more complex than that, but she didn't have time to explain it all to Monty right now. She just wanted to make sure he wouldn't insult Lexa without knowing.

 

Lexa relaxed a little at the introduction, though her eyes lingered on the arm Monty had wrapped around the blonde's shoulders. Clarke felt herself blush slightly as she took a step back and let his arm fall.

 

''Indra reports you claim to have escaped from Mount Weather. Is that true?'' The Commander asked, jutting her chin towards her general.

 

The boy stood straighter. ''Er, yes, Ma'am, it's true. With Bellamy's help, actually.''

 

''What about the others?'' Clarke pressed.

 

The boy shuffled uncomfortably. ''They are still there. They don't want to leave. But they don't know what's really happening in there!'' He defended.

 

''What do you mean?'' Clarke asked again.

 

Lexa rose a hand. ''This discussion might take a while. Let us move to the eating room. I am sure Indra and your friend would welcome something to drink and eat.''

 

Monty nodded eagerly and Clarke was a little ashamed that she had not thought of it herself. Just because he had not been hurt like Raven or Murphy did not mean he should not be taken care of before being interrogated.

 

But she was impatient to hear what he had found. It could be the critical piece of information Lexa and the previous _Hedas_ had been unable to unearth, and the solution to freeing her people and advancing Lexa's agenda towards peace.

 

They settled around the table where Clarke and Lexa often shared their meals, and munched on dried meat and nuts while Monty chugged down several cups of water. Once he was no longer parched, he started his story.

 

''The Mountain men brought us all from the dropship. We spent some time in quarantine and then they allowed us in their community. They can't go outside, Clarke. I mean, not without suits. They say it's because of radiations. And I saw the consequences of a containment breach – they are not lying. The poor guy was covered in burns in a less than a minute. For some reason, we and the grounders are immune.''

 

''Natural selection.'' Clarke interrupted, her mind quickly connecting Monty's observations with her own understanding of biology. ''The grounders are the descendants of those that survived the bombs and the first high levels of radiations. Same for all the animals and plants. We were exposed to solar radiations in space – somehow, we went through the selection process as well. But if they stayed in the bunker since the apocalypse…'' She reasoned.

 

Monty nodded. ''Sounds right. Anyway, I thought there was something fishy. I mean, they were very kind and welcoming to us, but I wondered why they went through all that trouble to take us in, you know? So, I snooped around.''

 

''They… they found a way to heal from the radiation sickness. They use the grounders. It's a kind of dialysis, I think. Wish I could show it to you, you would understand it better than I, Clarke.''

 

Lexa and Indra tensed besides them but did not interrupt. Clarke knew some of the words Monty used were probably unknown to them, but she had no doubt their imagination was filling in the blanks.

 

''So, the captured grounders are alive?'' She clarified.

 

He hesitated. ''It kills them eventually. I am not sure how long they survive there. It's horrible, Clarke. Bellamy and I escaped through this area where the grounders are imprisoned. There must have been hundreds of cages. And then they throw the bodies through a chute – we escaped that way. There are some sort of… crazy monsters that live in those tunnels. They.. they eat the bodies. Tried to eat us, too.''

 

He shuddered visibly at the memory. Clarke gave him a moment before she continued.

 

''You said our companions don't want to leave. Why?''

 

''They don't know what's going on in there. Bellamy and I escaped almost as soon as we found out. And… well, they are afraid of the grounders. It's safe inside Mount Weather, they have food and warm shelter.'' He shrugged, throwing an apprehensive glance to the general and the Commander.

 

Lexa frowned. ''I don't understand. It sounds like your people and mine are treated very differently. Why? Did they ask for something in exchange of what they provide for you?''

 

Monty fidgeted on the bench. ''They want us to become part of their community. Your people are just… medicine. They, um, they see you as savages.'' He explained hurriedly.

 

Indra growled. Monty gripped Clarke's arm and tried to hide behind her. Lexa huffed.

 

''Calm down, Indra. This boy is not our enemy, no matter what his people are doing.'' She focused on Clarke. ''What do you think?''

 

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. ''Gene pool. My former companions are the long term solution – children produced by a sky person and a mountain person could probably resist radiation and go outside without the suit. Your people enables them to survive and treat themselves in the mean time.''

 

The boy next to her shook his head. ''Not only long term, Clarke. Part of why I started snooping was because a few days after we arrived, that guy was covered in burns. Doctors said our blood might help him, and Fox volunteered because she was friend with him. He recovered ultra fast, but I wondered how they knew of this treatment.''

 

''The day I found the grounders and fled, they applied to us for donating bone marrow – they said our bodies were so resilient to radiations that it might cure them. I am not sure if the others accepted – I used the distraction to slip away.''

 

Lexa half-rose from her seat. ''Cure? Do you mean that the Mountain men will soon be able to leave their home as they wish without burning?''

 

''If it works, yes. The doctor and the son of the president seemed… eager to get started. Gave me the creeps.'' Monty replied.

 

The Commander turned to Indra. ''You must return to _Tondisi_. Scout around the Mountain as much as possible. I want to know the moment they step outside of their Mountain.'' She turned back to the sky boy after her general bowed and left the room in a quick, confident stride. ''Do you know how many people there are? And how long it will take for them to be cured?'' She demanded.

 

Clarke listened as Monty nervously replied, filing away all the information and reflecting on all the medical applications. ''Er… The Mountain men are a little under four hundred. For the cure, I don't know…''

 

Clarke sighed and massaged her temples. ''I do. Around eighty sky people for four hundred – that means four or five donations each. With proper food and care, they can make a donation every month without endangering their precious gene pool. That means the Mountain men might be leaving their own prison within six months. Faster if they don't care whether or not the donors recover.'' She summarized. ''The first ones could already be out, since it has already been several days since Monty and Bellamy escaped.''

 

She paused. ''Why the hell is he with you by the way? Sounded like you were alone in your investigation.'' She asked, turning back to Monty.

 

''Octavia wasn't inside Mount Weather. When he saw me slipping away that day, he tagged along. He wanted to know if I had found a way out.'' He stated simply.

 

Clarke sighed. ''Octavia. Of course. Why did I even ask?'' She shook her head.

 

Bellamy's devotion for his sister would truly be admirable, if he did not regularly resort to crime because of it – and if she actually wanted it. From what she understood from Raven, the girl had found a friend – or perhaps even a lover – amongst the grounders and took off with him.

 

Lexa spoke up. ''You can deal with this boy later. We need to focus on the Mountain for now. If they will be able to walk on the ground soon, their shadow will grow. I cannot allow that.''

 

Clarke considered. She was disgusted by what the Mountain was doing to the grounders – more than she already was after learning of the Reapers – but somewhat reassured by the fact that her own people were not mistreated. Unfortunately, their current treatment might heavily depend on their cooperation. If they refused to donate bone marrow, the Mountain men could decide to take it anyway, and even harvest their gametes to save their precious gene pool. It was only a step further from what they were already doing.

 

Still…

 

''Will they truly be a threat to you, once they are cured? Apparently, they captured your people because they needed them to survive the radiations. What purpose would they have to continue?'' She remarked.

 

As she expected, Lexa immediately shook her head.

 

''No. They have harassed my people for decades. I cannot let it go unpunished. And the Mountain is in the territory of the _Trikru_ , near the borders with _Azgeda_ and the Shadow Valley. They will want to conquer these lands.'' She paused. ''From what I understand, it is similar to your Ark. You told me resources were limited, so you also limited the population. It must be the same for them, because my warriors do not allow them to forage for food often. Once they are free, they will want to thrive on the ground – that means killing those who already use the lands they want.''

 

Clarke acquiesced her reasoning. ''But them coming out is also an opportunity. They will not be immune to the acid fog, so they will not use it when their own men are within range – their number is too small to allow careless losses.''

 

The Commander tilted her head. ''It means I no longer have to find a way in – I can just wait for them to get outside.''

 

She rose from the table. ''I will discuss this further with you later, _Klark_. I have other duties to attend now. Your friend can have rooms prepared on the same floor as Murphy and Raven.''

 

Once she had left, Clarke motioned for Monty to get up and follow her as she explained.

 

''The grounders arrived at the dropship shortly after you were taken to Mount Weather.'' She explained. ''They found Raven and brought her here, as well as Murphy that they had captured some time ago. I met the Commander after Bellamy tried to kill me. I was able to explain about the Ark and why we were sent down, and now she trusts me. As long as you don't try to harm anyone, you will be welcome here – for a while.''

 

She located a servant and relayed Lexa's orders for a room to be prepared for Monty. The young boy bowed to her, muttering ''As you command, Nymph'' and Clarke refrained from rolling her eyes at the title.

 

She continued. ''Raven found old radios and fixed one. We are trying to contact the Ark, but they have not been on the right side of Earth the last few days, so no luck so far. I try every morning for about an hour – we can't really do more until Raven is back with the solar panels.''

 

She showed him Raven's room and the dynamo-powered radio. Monty grinned.

 

''So, hope is not lost, eh? I hope my parents are okay.'' He commented.

 

Clarke smiled back at him. ''Raven told me you kept trying even after I disappeared. Thanks for that. And sorry for… not being there.''

 

He waved her away. ''You say Bellamy tried to kill you, and the rest weren't exactly kind to you either. I understand why you would choose not to come back. And I am sorry, too. That I could not do… _more_ , I guess. Contact the Ark, or get the others to listen to you, or convince them to leave this damn bunker with me. Even Nathan wouldn't come.''

 

Clarke remembered that the two boys had grown closer after Jasper's death. She had never interacted much with the boy herself, but he had always been respectful in their interactions. She doubted he would support the Mountain's actions, but guessed that his refusal to investigate and escape had hurt Monty.

 

She hugged him again – she had really missed her friend. ''You have been great, Monty. Really great.'' She soften her voice. ''Jasper would be proud of all that you have done. And I am sure he would have been right besides you when you fled the Mountain.''

 

He hugged her back and she could hear his voice tremble as he replied. ''Thanks, Clarke. He really liked you, you know? He told me, before Bellamy ended his suffering. He said he was glad he had stayed alive long enough for you to find him and bring him back. Said that no one had ever given such a big proof of how much they cared, so he could die happy.''

 

She buried her face to hide her tears. ''You never told me that.''

 

''I know. But with Atom, and then Wells… It never felt like it was the right time. When Bellamy said you had died, I thought I would never have the chance.'' He confided.

 

''Thank you.'' She murmured.

 

She pulled back and brushed her tears. ''You know, I actually have a lot of things to do. I will discuss Mount Weather with the Commander, and we will try to come up with a plan. At least now I know that we have some time to free the others. I swear we will find a way, Monty.''

 

She pointed to the radio. ''But in the meantime, if you could take over the radio until Raven comes back, and give her a hand if she needs it… Well, that would really help.''

 

He nodded with a wide smile. ''Sure! I would like to talk to my parents, anyway.'' He paused. ''Does that mean I have to pedal on that thing?''

 

She laughed. ''No, Lexa – I mean the Commander – has one of her warriors helping us for that bit.''

 

''Good. I don't think I would have enough breath to both power that radio and talk to it.'' He grimaced.

 

The young servant from earlier knocked on the door and informed her that the room was ready. She walked Monty to it and bid him good day.


	15. Contact and planning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Glancing at the position of the sun through a window, Clarke estimated that she still had some time before lunch, so she returned to the Nightbloods and spent the rest of the morning supervising chess matches and discussing their strategies and mistakes. In doing so, she was reminded of a book her teacher from the Ark had mentioned a few times – _The Art of War_. She remembered browsing through its digital version some years back, but she had not read it in depth as she had never expected to actually need the knowledge for anything other than academics.

 

Now, though… From what little she remembered, it would be the perfect lesson book. It would also help her with planning an attack against the Mountain with Lexa. From what she had learned about Grounder history – attending the _Natblidas_ lessons and discussing with Lexa certainly helped in that regard – most of the battles that had been waged since the clans were formed had been a show of strength more than conquering a strategic position. Leaders could usually be challenged, so in essence a leader had to prove that he could protect his people. If the battle was lost, the leader rarely stayed in place for long. Many of the bigger clans were in fact the fusion of smaller ones from earlier victories.

 

Basically, it was unusual for the clans to lay siege or conquer a piece of land. They knew how to defend their own lands and lead and direct an army in a battlefield, and the Commander and her novitiate had some theory on invading enemy lands, but from what she had heard so far, she doubted any _Heda_ had ever needed that knowledge.

 

Clarke was slowly realizing just how important honour was in the grounders' culture. She knew they believed in reincarnation, and from some comments made by people she healed in the city, she guessed that leading an honourable life ensured you would be reincarnated in a better life. It also explained why Lexa was so careful in choosing potential spies. Those men and women would be unsure of how their actions would impact their future life, so only utter devotion to the Commander would convince the young leader to even broach the subject.

 

She frowned. Assassination and murder were clearly the most dishonourable thing one might do, especially against a _natblida_. So how the hell had _Azgeda_ managed to form and maintain a group of sworn and trained assassins? She would have to ask Lexa.

 

Right now, though, the matter of the Mountain was more pressing, and if she hoped to be of any use in the planning, she had to find the Comander an old wealth of knowledge from ancient China.

 

Hopefully some copies of the famous book would have survived. At least she had fewer and fewer crates and piles to work through in the Tower's library.

 

She retired to her room as soon as she found a copy of the book, and settled in her bed to read it. It was much shorter than she had expected, and she advanced quickly, taking notes of quotes and concepts she found most interesting.

 

She heard a familiar knock against her door and laid the book next to her pillow while Lexa entered. She had pretty much given up hope of making the brunette wait after knocking at this point. She was almost starting to find the habit endearing – and she blocked the door with a chair when she didn't want to be disturbed. _That_ made Lexa ask if she could come in. Otherwise she was starting to realize, after more walks around the town, that knocking and waiting was just not a habit amongst the grounders. It was more a way to catch the occupant's attention than a way to ask for permission to enter. Lexa had explained that she was supposed to warn her guards when she did not want to be disturbed, but Clarke always forgot to do that before closing her door behind herself – and placing a chair was much quicker anyway.

 

''You are more likely to understand the Mountain's needs and technology than I am. What do you think of what your friend reported?'' Lexa asked as she took her usual seat near the bed.

 

''I think it could work for the best. The biggest issue was to pass the acid fog and open the bunker. If we wait until they get out, they will solve both problems for us. We just have to be ready for when they finally venture outside.'' She said.

 

Lexa shook her head. ''My warriors cannot fight against the Maunons weapons, _Klark_. Their guns will kill many before we take them down. And they have missiles.''

 

That was not something she had anticipated. At least not the missiles.

 

The other woman insisted. ''We must act soon. We have greater numbers, but I will not have my warriors and villagers slaughtered if there is another way. They think us savages, but we are not.''

 

Clarke glanced at her book. '' _When strong, avoid them. If of high morale, depress them. Seem humble to fill them with conceit. If at ease, exhaust them. If united, separate them. Attack their weaknesses. Emerge to their surprise._ '' She quoted slowly, reading a passage she had noted down earlier.

 

''What are you saying?'' Lexa asked as she furrowed her brow.

 

Clarke looked up and showed her the book. ''I remembered an old book and found it this afternoon. It's called _The Art of War_.''

 

Lexa smiled. ''Sounds promising.''

 

''It's a very old and very famous book. That was a quote from one the many advices in there.''

 

''I could not recognize all of the words.'' Lexa admitted.

 

''First is _when strong, avoid them_. We can't defend ourselves against the missiles, so we have to find a way to avoid them.''

 

''You cannot miss with such a weapon.'' Lexa objected.

 

Clarke brightened. ''Yes, you can!'' She realized. ''We must make them miss!''

 

Sudden hope shone on the Commander's features. ''How?''

 

''To launch and aim a missile, they need coordinates. That means they must have a spotter near the target before they launch, to confirm the coordinates.'' The blonde reflected.

 

''So if we can locate and kill those spotters first, we are safe. But a single man can easily hide in bushes. This strategy has no guarantee of success.'' Lexa cautioned wearily.

 

Clarke bit her lip. ''Then we must not give them any reason to use the missiles. We must offer no targets – no real ones at least.''

 

Lexa seemed to consider the idea. ''You suggest that we use deception. Incite them to aim at things that have no value to us.''

 

Clarke nodded eagerly. ''You discretely evacuate the villages. We probably have about at least a month before they even think of launching an attack – they must have enough people able to go outside. So that gives us time to relocate your people, discretely. Then we find some way to make them think the villages is still inhabited, and they will uselessly throw their missiles at them.''

 

''The roads will be harder to travel soon. And moving so many people without being noticed… But it is worth it. If they stay, they die. At least this way we can save some of them, even if the Mountain realizes what we are doing.'' Lexa assented. ''Let us hope winter will not come too early.''

 

''We have a month. They can evacuate in small groups. The size of a hunting party, for example. And they carry only the essentials – food, mementos. Will you have enough space for them in the other villages and Polis? If the plan works, their former villages will be destroyed. It will take time to rebuild.'' Clarke advised.

 

''They are my people.'' Lexa stated strongly. ''I will find as much place as they need.''

 

She paused. ''There is only one problem with this plan. The spotter you talked about, he will notice if the village is empty.''

 

Clarke swore. ''You are right. I had thought we might build dummies, and lit the fires and put venison on display. But the spotter will see through it if he observes for a while before giving the coordinates.''

 

She swore again.

 

Lexa leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. ''We must leave people in the villages.'' She concluded slowly. ''Volunteers. I am sure some of the oldest villagers will not wish to leave. And some warriors will probably accept to take on this mission.''

 

Clarke startled. ''You can't ask people to die, Lexa!''

 

''Yes I can. I am a leader. It is my role to look my men in the eyes and tell them to die for me.'' Lexa reminded her. ''Is it not the same with chess? You sacrifice some pawns to lead your enemy where you want him.''

 

''But… It's human lives we are talking about. Not wooden pawns.'' She argued weakly.

 

She knew Lexa was right. Everything pointed to that solution. It did not make the decision any easier, though. And even though Lexa was the one who would give the orders, Clarke would forever know that she had participated in the planning.

 

''Better a handful of warriors sacrificed than scores on the battlefield or hundreds of villagers.'' The brunette enounced softly. ''You have an amazing knowledge, _Klark_ , and a mind smart enough to use it. You know this is how things must be done. You just lack the experience to accept it.''

 

She hung her head. ''You are right.'' She sighed.

 

''So, we have a plan for the missiles. Any other inspiration from your new book?'' Lexa asked.

 

''This new book is actually over twenty-five hundreds of years old, you know.'' She remarked as she picked up her notes again.

 

They spent the rest of the evening and most of the next day planning. A few times, Clarke went to Monty to ask him about specific points, any details he might have forgotten to share in his first retelling.

 

By the end of the second day, they had a rough plan and several variations depending on how the Mountain would respond. Lexa had sent a messenger to Indra to order her not to augment the number of scouts, but with detailed instructions on what the warriors had to look out for and report.

 

When the Mountain men moved, they would have to be ready.

 

The next day, an excited Monty came to find Clarke in the war room, as she was pouring over maps with Lexa. He banged on the door since the guards were under strict instructions that no one was to be allowed in unless authorized by the Commander. Taking down the Mountain would be a huge show of power, and Lexa intended to make it clear to the people and the clans' chiefs that the victory was _Heda's_. No one was to learn of the preparations until she sent out her orders.

 

''Clarke! The Ark! I reached the Ark!''

 

Feverishly, Clarke sent a pleading look to Lexa. The brunette nodded and wrapped up the maps and notes to hide them from view, while Clarke called out for the guards to let her friend in. He stumbled in when the doors suddenly opened, grinning.

 

''They answered, Clarke! During the last few minutes of our 'try to contact the Ark' hour. I gave them the time for tomorrow, and told them what you said: Earth is survivable, and we made contact with other survivors. I told them you were alive and that you would be the one to explain everything tomorrow.''

 

She pumped her fist in the air. ''Great news! Feels like things are finally coming together.'' She sighed in relief. The delinquents were safe enough for now, and she had a good plan to rescue them and beat the Mountain. The Ark was now aware that Earth was survivable. Even if they somehow lost the radio – like if that dynamo that smoke after an hour of use exploded unexpectedly – she had completed her mission and her people would not have to suffocate in space.

 

''Raven should be back today or tomorrow, so soon we won't be restricted to talk to the Ark. I will explain as much as I can tomorrow.'' She dismissed Monty with a smile and a congratulatory hug and then turned to Lexa who had pulled out another map. ''Have you found places where they could land safely without endangering your people?''

 

The Commander pointed to several marked areas. ''I located those when Raven first started working on the radio. I waited until there was news before I showed them to you.'' She tapped on a couple of them. ''But some are in the area we need to prepare our attack against the Mountain. And I need your knowledge of what your people will have to survive with – the clans will not provide much to people they know nothing of.''

 

Lexa raised her head with an interrogative look. ''Any chance your people would be able to wait until spring to land? Resources would be easier to forage, and the Mountain should have been dealt with by then. We already have to provide for the evacuated villagers – they won't be able to save all the food they prepared for this winter. Not to mention the Mountain's prisoners, if they are as numerous as your friend said.''

 

Clarke rubbed her temples. ''I will ask them how much time they have left. But they also have to keep a security margin. It has already been over a month since the dropship landed. Even with the people they sacrificed after sending us down, I don't think they have much time.''

 

The brunette stared at the map, and Clarke waited. She knew Lexa had a near perfect knowledge of how many people lived on which lands, what they produced and foraged, and the rough amounts they could spare. While they planned for Mount Weather, they had only been able to proceed so quickly because the Commander was able to dismiss any idea that was rendered impractical by lack of resources or the shape of the lands almost immediately.

 

Lexa pointed to three areas. ''Those are out. The first two would disturb our preparations against the Mountain – and we have no idea how the Mountain might react if they see your people coming down. The third one is in Azgeda. With Nia's machinations lately, I'd rather not tempt her with potential hostages. Announcement for ambassadors in the clans will have happened by then. She will be angry.''

 

Clarke nodded. Lexa was already trying to smuggle her first spies in the different clans. They brought no information for now, but they were a first step to finding other candidates. She made a mental note to discuss the last chapter of _The Art of War_ with the Commander soon – it was dedicated to espionage and detailed the five kinds of spies one needed to implement to have a nearly unbeatable system.

 

''Do all of your people have to come at once?'' Lexa mused out loud. ''If they send a fraction first, would it give enough time for the rest to wait until spring? We could more easily provide for fewer people – and it would give us more time to negotiate. Your radio is impressive, but rather limiting when we cannot see the face of the emissary or show them the maps while discussing lands and trade.''

 

Clarke smiled. ''It could actually work. I won't hazard a number now, the engineers will know better than I how much security they need to spend one last winter in space. Can you calculate how many people you can welcome without it being too much?'' She asked.

 

The brunette nodded. ''I will work on this.'' She paused, considering. ''With Aden. And we should include him in our preparations, too.''

 

Clarke knew what this was about. ''I told you, Lexa. You are not dying until you have changed this stupid Conclave.''

 

The young woman shook her head dismissively. ''There will be no Conclave if I fall against the Mountain. Aden is the only one old enough to enter. People will see Strina's recent death as the Spirit choosing him over her.''

 

Her face had closed at the mention of her deceased novitiate. Clarke wondered if the brunette had at least allowed herself to cry in the privacy of her own rooms.

 

Lexa looked at her in a rare moment of insecurity. ''Will you stay by his side if he has to succeed me?'' She asked in a soft voice.

 

''I would never abandon any of these kids, no matter what.'' Clarke rasped. ''And neither will you. You have warriors. You don't have to be on the front lines when there will be so much to coordinate.'' She argued.

 

Uselessly. They had already had that same discussion a dozen times. Lexa wanted Clarke to keep things organized from the command center, safe behind the many lines of warriors, as she had a better understanding of all things technical they might encounter and absolutely no fighting skills. Clarke wanted to stay close to Lexa to heal her if she got hurt. And the Commander had to lead her warriors in the battle. That honour thing again, apparently.

 

So far, she had not managed to convince Lexa. Her argument that even the lines of warriors did not guarantee that she would not find herself in a fight had only resulted in Lexa adding weapon training in her schedule. Now, she was trying to improve with a bow while the Nightbloods spared in their glade, and Lexa showed her basic moves with a dagger and a sword.

 

And the brunette refused to rely solely on Clarke's power to ensure her safety. Meaning the healer was really running out of arguments.

 

Lexa did not even bother to reply to her, simply rolling her eyes at that statement. Clarke sighed and delivered her surrender with a shrug.

 

The following day, she nervously sat in front of the radio. Monty was standing against the wall close to the door, while Lexa was directly behind her, hands clasped behind her back as she often did when facing an official discussion. Clarke almost commented that the Chancellor wouldn't be able to see her anyway, but refrained.

 

She was too nervous for the joke not to come out biting. She was irritated that Raven was not back yet and that the time would be limited. She wanted to ask about her mother and other acquaintances, but that would have to wait. She knew Monty was still without news of his own parents.

 

She pushed the button with a trembling hand once the warrior started pedaling.

 

''Earth to the Ark, this is Clarke Griffin. Do you read me? Clarke Griffin to the Ark! Do you read me?'' She said.

 

There was static when she released the button. She tried again, speaking louder – not that it would matter, really, but she felt the need to do it anyway.

 

Static. Had something happened? She felt her heart beat faster in her chest and her clammy hand slipped on the button.

 

Static again. And when she was about to press the button to try again…

 

''I read you, Clarke.''

 

She froze.

 

''Clarke?'' The voice repeated, worried.

 

She held back a sob as she pushed the button again.

 

''I read you, Mom.''

 

She felt Lexa shift behind her and a hand hovered above her shoulder before settling on the back of the chair. She took a deep breath, thanking whatever gods or this damn Spirit Lexa was always going on about for this moment. She felt silent tears run down her cheeks as she continued.

 

''We still have to power the radio with a dynamo, so we can't speak long. Raven should arrive with the solar panels this afternoon. We will have more time once she installs them.'' She said, reminding both the Ark and herself.

 

''I am glad you are okay.'' She added after a short pause.

 

''I am well, Clarke. Don't worry about me. And tell Monty his parents are fine, too. They send their love and are happy to know he is okay.'' Abby replied. She could hear the smile in her mother's voice and felt one growing on her own lips in response.

 

''He is here, Mom. He heard you, and he sends his love as well.''

 

''I'll pass it on.'' She could picture her mother nodding as she said that. ''He said yesterday that you made contact with other survivors? What does that mean?''

 

Time for business, then.

 

''We are not alone on the ground. Some people survived the bombs, and their descendants have thrived on the East Coast ever since. I met their leader, and she was very understanding once everything was explained. We will need to negotiate whether we become part of an already existing clan or if we want lands to be our own. But first, we need to agree about the landing of the Exodus ships. We were lucky the dropship did not fall on a village – there were a couple quite close.'' She explained as succinctly as she could.

 

''Clarke, this is Jaha.''

 

She straightened in her chair and whispered to Lexa that this was the Chancellor. She could not recall whether or not she had told her the name before.

 

''First things first, how is my son? Is he with you?''

 

Shit. She could hear the hope in his voice. Fuck. She should have anticipated this would happen. Think of how best to break the news. But Wells' death felt so long ago to her…

 

Her throat was tight as she replied.

 

''I am sorry. He… he is dead.''

 

She glanced at Monty. She remembered digging his grave with him. Next to Jasper's.

 

Wells had gone in the dropship for her. And now he was dead.

 

''How?'' She could hear the grief in the Chancellor's voice, but anger soon followed. ''Was it one of those other survivors that killed him?'' He demanded.

 

''No!'' She exclaimed loudly. ''No. It… it was one of the other delinquents. A girl. She killed herself soon after.''

 

She didn't know why she felt the need to say that last sentence. Because she wanted Jaha to feel like his son had been avenged? Because she didn't want him to be angry at Charlotte, a girl he had deprived of her parents and locked away?

 

''Why?'' Grief and disbelief warred in his voice.

 

''Because _you_ killed _her_ parents, and _you_ weren't down here!'' She spat back, some of her own anger at the man piercing in her voice.

 

She released the button and crossed her arms to hide her tremors. She saw Monty silently asking her if she wanted him to leave the room. She shook her head and took another deep breathe to control her emotions.

 

''Clarke, Marcus and I will listen to what you need to tell us to prepare our landing. Thelonious… needs some time alone right now.'' Her mother announced diplomatically.

 

The blonde nodded, and then replied out loud remembering that her mother couldn't see her. Perhaps they could add a screen once Raven got back? Lexa was right, everything would be easier if they could see one another and show maps.

 

''Okay. First, it is nearly winter. The grounders can help us with supplies, but they didn't exactly plan to have two thousands more mouths to feed when they prepared for winter. So you need to give us an account of how much you can bring down in the Exodus. And the leader of the grounders – the Commander – will calculate how many people she can afford to house from that. Ideally, the people from the Ark would need to come down in two stages. The first one, as soon as we have agreed on a landing site, will winter on the ground, negotiate the future with the Commander, and prepare everything for the rest. The second one will be for everyone else. Those will have to spend winter in space.'' Clarke resumed.

 

''The details of the Exodus are only known to the Chancellor, so we can't answer you any of that now.'' She recognized Marcus voice, but the tone was a lot less… demanding than she remembered. She frowned, surprised.

 

''Your plan sounds good, though. We just have to work out the numbers.'' He added. ''But, frankly, our main problem is the oxygen. As you know.''

 

He paused. Clarke was about to ask how much air exactly they had left, when he continued, voice wavering slightly.

 

''We… People volunteered when the wristbands went out and Abby broadcast your father's message. We have about five months, if all goes well. I will have to check, of course, but I believe one Exodus ship will be enough for the Ark to safely last one more winter.''

 

Clarke intervened. They did not have much time left, and she wanted to discuss one last thing. ''We can work out the numbers later, no sense in conjecturing now. Another group of survivors – not answering to the leader I have met – has captured most of the delinquents. We are trying to get them out.'' She preferred not to use the word war at this point – they were thousands of miles away, no need to worry them. Let them think she was negotiating with several people.

 

She pressed on, even though she guessed her mother and Kane wanted to react. ''They are fine, last I heard. But some died earlier, as well. I will prepare a list of everyone's status. Can you communicate it to the families?''

 

''We will, Clarke. Who else is with you?'' It was her mother again.

 

''Monty is here.'' She listed. ''Raven is fine too, she went to get the solar panels as I mentioned earlier. Also, John Murphy is here. And Bellamy Blake.''

 

Her mother's voice was frantic when she replied. ''Clarke, be careful. Bellamy Blake tried to kill Thelonious before getting on the dropship.''

 

''You don't have to worry. He is in a cell right now. He tried to kill a couple of people down here. I am not sure what to do with him, honestly.''

 

Lexa spoke up. ''Since he first committed a crime against the Chancellor, I can hold him until your people come and collect him to punish him as they see fit.'' She offered.

 

Clarke nodded gratefully and turned back to the radio.

 

''Actually, the Commander offers to keep him where he is until you can collect him for trial.''

 

''Okay, then let's do that for now. He is not a priority.'' Kane replied approvingly. ''My thanks to the Commander, for everything.''

 

''Will you be able to make contact same time tomorrow, or will the Ark already be out of range?'' She asked.

 

''We should be able to, but I doubt we will have everything calculated by then. Can you have the list of the delinquents ready by then?''

 

She looked up at Monty. She could start the list, but he was really the one who would do most of the work. He nodded grimly and she grimaced. She wasn't looking forward to writing down the names of all those that had died. Not to mention that the families – for those that had one – would want more explanations.

 

''Yes. So just that for tomorrow?'' She clarified.

 

Her mother confirmed, and they exchanged hurried goodbyes. Then she nodded to the pedaling warrior to notify him that he could stop, and thanked him for his help.

 

''At least, Raven can take her time to add those panels. Dynamo will be enough for tomorrow, and then we will have a few days to work out the numbers until the Ark is in reachable distance again.'' She commented.

 

''I'll do the list.'' Monty intervened. ''You are working hard to get everyone out of Mount Weather, it's the least I can do. I''l bring it to you, if you want to add anything. And I can communicate it tomorrow as well, if you want.'' He offered.

 

She looked at the radio, hesitating. She wished she could speak longer with her mother, ask more about how and why she had used her father's message. But she would have more time to do it soon, and Monty had spend more time with the delinquents than herself. If he wanted to do it, he deserved the priority.

 

And they still had a lot to do. Preparations against the Mountain now that they had a plan, calculations for the Ark, lessons for the nightbloods, training, watching out for Azgeda…

 

She nodded her assent and thanked him. She also asked him to help Raven and sum up everything to the mechanic once she arrived.

 

The following week was busy. As promised, Aden was now attending all the preparatory meetings when his lessons permitted, and Lexa supervised as he made the calculations of supplies for both the coming war and the Ark. He did so with a grim efficiency.

 

One night, Clarke came back to his room through the secret passage. She did not want Lexa to know of her discussion with Aden. She shook the boy gently to wake him. She felt a little guilty to wake him when he was so tired the previous day, but hoped this conversation would ease his mind.

 

''Clarke?'' He asked, confused, as he rubbed his eyes.

 

''Sorry to wake you kiddo.'' She smiled. ''I know you are worried about Lexa.''

 

He settled against the wall and sighed as he nodded.

 

''She never included us in such preparations before.'' He confided. ''It feels like she is preparing me to take her place as _Heda_.''

 

''She is.'' She replied softly. ''But it does not mean she is going to die when we go fight the Mountain. It means she believes you are ready to participate in decisions like this. That she trusts you to make the right decisions.''

 

He shook his head dejectedly. ''It still feels like she expects to die soon. I don't want to be ready if it means she will leave us.''

 

If the subject of their conversation wasn't so grim, she would have laughed at the sulk the boy sported. The _Natblidas_ often channeled Lexa in their attitudes, meaning that they rarely wore such expressive faces, except with each others, their _Heda_ and, more recently, their healer.

 

''You know what I can do, Aden. I won't let her die. She will return to Polis healthy and victorious.'' She said, sitting next to the boy and draping an arm over his shoulders to pull him in an embrace.

 

''I know the battle plans. You won't be next to her all the time.'' He objected.

 

''I will still try to convince her to let me. And if I can't, I have a back-up plan.'' She smirked gently.

 

''Really?'' The boy perked up.

 

''Gustus. I will have Raven give me a radio for him. His mission will be to warn me if Lexa is in danger, and keep her alive until I reach her. He will also keep me updated of how far they are, so I will make sure that I am never too far from her. She doesn't have to know about this, obviously.'' She revealed to the young _natblida_.

 

He leaned against her.

 

''You promise?'' He asked, voice muffled against her side.

 

''I promise.'' She said solemnly as she kissed the top of his blond hair.

 

She held him until she felt him sag into her as he fell asleep. She laid him back more comfortably in his bed and left the room with a small smile.


	16. Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter. Enjoy!

Clarke met up with Raven to discuss some contraptions that would prove useful. They no longer needed the hydrazine to blow up the door, so she had another plan for it. Between the mechanics' understanding of physics and Clarke's precise drawings, they were able to hatch detailed blueprints for building trebuchets. The plans were sent to trusted woodworkers with orders to build the machines in a clearing half a day's ride from Polis.

 

It was a part of the plan that Clarke feared would not be ready in time. They needed to build the trebuchets, learn to assemble and disassemble them quickly so they could carry it to the Mountain's territory, and test them so they would be able to aim properly during the battle.

 

But if it worked, it could make all the difference.

 

Indra had sent messages that a few Mountain men had been seen walking outside without suits. They remained stealthy, observing the villages from afar. The Trikru carefully inspected the places they had occupied after their departure, but found no suspicious devices left behind.

 

They were probably convinced that their technology ensured their superiority and weren't planting anything for a battle in the forest. Given their small population, they were most likely counting the number of villages they needed to destroy for their own expansion, and evaluating the size of each.

 

Clarke found this comforting. They would not do so much research if they had many missiles at their disposal. Perhaps they even intended to conquer the smallest villages with guns.

 

And the villages closest to the Mountain had already been discretely evacuated before the first Mountain men poked their noses out. Their scouts would not be able to notice anything amiss.

 

Finally, the Ark was in range again. But the Chancellor revealed a fact that Clarke had not expected.

 

''We only need to send one hundred people to the ground to ensure we have enough oxygen until spring. But we have to use the Exodus ship to full capacity if we want to save as many people as possible. We want to jam in as many additional people as possible, using mattresses and pillows so secure them. We are preparing one ship, and we hope to send two hundreds instead of one. If it works, we will try to send even more with the last six.''

 

Clarke gritted her teeth. The efforts of every Chancellors to reduce population made even more sense now. After four more generations, eight Exodus would have been enough to send the full population down.

 

But right now, they would have needed three times the amount they had left. Even if they somehow managed to pile more people in, some would have to remain behind.

 

And since the first ship might arrive roughly at the same time as the attack on Mount Weather, they also had to count with providing for the eighty delinquents and hundreds of grounder prisoners. Clarke had suspected they would send one ship, and had hoped that Lexa and her could negotiate for it to be boarded by two or three dozens of people with many supplies of dehydrated food and the likes.

 

No such luck.

 

She pushed the button after Lexa shook her head slowly.

 

''Chancellor, the grounders resources are stretched already. You can't expect them to provide everything for two hundred people or more for several months. I thought you would send a limited number with supplies.'' She reasoned. ''Raven came in a pod. Are there really no other ships, even smaller?''

 

''None that received proper maintenance over the last hundred years. We don't have enough mechanics to keep the Ark running _and_ repair a dozen escape pods that will not make a difference in the final count, Clarke. You said there were thousands of survivors, how is it difficult to spare enough for two hundreds?'' He insisted.

 

Clarke used the fact that they couldn't hear her right now to huff loudly. Then she pushed the button and answered.

 

''Because this is a year when food will not be plentiful. They have no obligation to help us, this is purely a favor.'' She reminded in a biting tone. ''Is there any other way? Can't you use repair a few pods to send a delegation big enough before winter, and keep the Exoduses for spring?''

 

The response was immediate, but it was Kane's voice.

 

''We already considered that. They would take too long to fix, assuming we have enough spare parts. It took Raven over a week of working full-time, and she is a genius.''

 

''Hell, yeah, I am!'' She heard the Latina comment behind her and she rolled her eyes. Like the girl needed an ego boost, she thought fondly.

 

''How many supplies can they bring with them? We did not expect so many people. How much would they need, exactly?'' She asked.

 

''We are preparing highly nutritive rations. They are not the best tasting, but they take very little space. The main problem is water – just one litter per person would take a lot of space.''

 

''They did not exactly bother themselves as much with _our_ well-being, if I recall. I can't remember them sparing us rations or water when they sent us down. We managed fine, but I guess the precious, valued citizens of the Ark deserve better than us delinquents.'' Murphy drawled.

 

Clarke sent him a half-hearted glare, but she couldn't really blame him. She mostly agreed with him, actually. The Council was handed a land site, support from the locals, and supplies offered without expectations for the first few people. Yet here they were, being picky and greedy.

 

''We can choose a land site with water nearby. The people of the Ark are used to going a day or two with barely any liquid.'' Clarke remarked. ''Food is the limiting factor down here, just like oxygen and space are yours.''

 

''What guarantees do we have that this Commander will keep her word to welcome us and give us land?'' Thelonious had taken back the mic.

 

Clarke let out a long-suffering sigh. ''How do you deal with that all day?'' She asked Lexa. ''I am already sick of it!''

 

The brunette pressed her lips in a thin line – her public version of a smile. ''You are doing well, _Klark_. He wouldn't have asked you that if he had any argument to oppose you with.''

 

She smiled back – her own public smile was much wider, though her current frustration made it smaller than usual – and pushed the button to reply.

 

''The Commander promises none of her people will harm you, and the delegation will be treated as emissaries should. As for the land, the offer is only to open negotiations. What you bring in exchange is up to you.'' She reminded the Chancellor.

 

There was a long silence. Clarke leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. Perhaps the Council thought she was disloyal – she had to admit that she had sounded like she defended Lexa's interests more than theirs – but she knew more than they could about conditions on the ground. And really, was it so hard to understand that their settling down would go more smoothly if they did not antagonize the one person with the most power around here?

 

''Okay, we will do that. Two hundred people, as many food as we can bring, and no water. Do you have the coordinates for the land site? Along with the directions and distance to the nearest source of clear water, and then your city – Polis, right?''

 

She let out a small cry of victory as she pumped her fist in the air, and saw Monty and Raven improvise a small dance while Murphy smiled. Lexa gave her the map, pointing to the land site they had agreed on earlier, and the rivers and small lake that were close.

 

She announced the coordinates, described the kind of land and enumerated the sources of water that could be reached in a few hours of walking. Word would be sent to the nearby villages, and a group of warriors would meet up with them and then escort them to the capitol.

 

When the members of the Council started arguing about who they should send in the first Exodus – old Chancellor Diana Sydney sounded displeased with Jaha's suggestions – Clarke put her foot down and told them that they were free to decide that amongst themselves. The Commander just needed one representative allowed to negotiate, and the radio would still be there to contact the others if need be.

 

She turned off the radio with a sigh of relief. Perhaps the whole thing would have been more bearable if her mother had still been part of the Council. Surprisingly, Marcus Kane seemed to have become the most reasonable one. She would have to ask her mother about it.

 

The arrival of the first Exodus was scheduled in less than a week, so the Commander immediately sent orders to the closest villages, along with a few kegs of alcohol. Gifts always made people more welcoming.

 

Clarke felt relieved that these negotiations were over. Her role as ambassador was finished, whoever the Council sent would take over. She could now focus on the delinquents and Mount Weather.

 

She went to the clearing with Lexa, Raven and Aden for the final tests of the trebuchets. The warriors and woodworkers chosen to operate the machines worked well and their aim, while not perfect, was sufficient for what they had in mind. The Commander ordered them to disassemble the machines and carry them to the place they had prepared in the forest near the Mountain. Indra was gathering the rest of the army, and would ensure that no Mountain men discovered their preparations.

 

From now on, every time a scouting party saw a Maunon, they would hunt him. The purpose of that was to both diminish their number and make it clear that they would not have the lands until all the grounders occupying them were dead. It also had the added bonus of strengthening the illusion that nearby villages were still occupied.

 

The plan would launch as soon as the first missile exploded. Instructions had been sent. Preparations were underway. Now, Clarke and Lexa only had to wait for Indra's signal – Raven was sending the general a radio along with her home-made bombs and the trebuchets.

 

Clarke also went to see Bellamy. She had put it off long enough, and the guy deserved to know what was going on after all. The guards had reported that he tried to escape at first, but was now apparently resigned to his fate. Lexa insisted on coming with her, as she wanted to hear whatever information he might have about the Ark or the Mountain herself.

 

''I heard that the grounders called you the Healing Nymph.'' He commented when he saw her.

 

''They do.'' She sat on the other side of his cell door. ''Why shoot the Chancellor – who is fine, by the way – and then try to kill me? And Raven?'' She asked.

 

''My sister.'' He answered in a defeated tone, sagging against the wall. ''I had to protect Octavia. A member of the guard told me about the dropship for you guys, and I couldn't let her go alone. She wasn't even a delinquent! She never did anything wrong! So, when this guy promised to smuggle me in the dropship if I did what he asked… I agreed. I hated Jaha, anyway. He killed my mom and took away my sister.''

 

Shit. She had never imagined that he had had help to get on the dropship. ''Who, Bellamy? Who gave you the gun and told you to shoot Jaha?'' She demanded, panicking.

 

The Ark would be out of range of the radio soon.

 

''It was Shumway.'' He stuttered. ''Why? Does it matter?''

 

Clarke did not reply. She was already running back up the stairs to Raven's room. She could hear Lexa following her and reassuring the guards that there was no threat inside the Tower.

 

She barged into the room and waved away Raven's questions as she turned on the radio and almost screamed at it.

 

''Clarke Griffin to the Ark! Clarke Griffin to the Ark! Do you read me? I need to talk to Abby Griffin or the Chancellor! Clarke Griffin to the Ark! Do you read me?''

 

''You need to release the button if you want them to reply.'' Raven reminded her. ''What's going on?''

 

Clarke shook her head but did as the mechanic suggested.

 

A voice answered her once she released the button. ''I hear you Clarke. Abby is in medical, and the Chancellor is overseeing the preparations. Do you want me to bring them a message?''

 

''Jackson!'' She exclaimed. ''Are you alone?''

 

''I am. They left me on call until we were out of range, in case something happened. What is it, Clarke?'' He asked.

 

She had always liked Jackson. He was loyal, and kind. She was quite certain that he knew her mother and her had saved people with much less supplies and medicine than science claimed to be necessary. But he had never brought it up.

 

''I have the name of who ordered Bellamy Blake to kill Chancellor Jaha.'' She announced.

 

Raven spoke up behind her. ''Signal is weak. The Ark will be out of reach in a few minutes.''

 

She slammed her fist on the table. She would really have preferred to give the information directly to her mother or Jaha. She had a feeling the attempted coup was part of something bigger, and was related to the decision to see if Earth was survivable, since it had happened when the dropship was sent. With preparations underway for the return to the ground, whoever was involved might try again.

 

But if there was one person she trusted to bring the information to her mother, it was Jackson.

 

''Jackson, Commandant Shumway was the one to give the gun to Bellamy. You need to warn the Chancellor or my mom. I don't know what his motive was, but with everything that is happening now…'' She left her words hanging. ''I will try to find as much as I can from Bellamy, and I will inform the delegation of what I learned as soon as they arrive in Polis.'' She promised.

 

''Very well, Clarke. Anything else, or can I go now?'' Jackson asked.

 

She gave him the go-ahead and slumped in the chair. She cursed herself for not talking to Bellamy earlier. She hoped Shumway had not planned anything else, and that everything would go without a hitch. They had enough to deal with not to add political troubles in the Ark.

 

''I should return to Bellamy.'' She sighed. ''I was supposed to tell him that the Ark is coming down, and that he would be judged then. He deserves the right to prepare his defense, now that we don't need to kill people to save oxygen.''

 

Raven looked at her incredulously. ''The guy shoot me and stole my radio – hundreds died because of that! Damn, Griffin, he tried to kill you – would have if you weren't some kind of mutant!''

 

''I am not a mutant!'' Clarke protested. Though, genetically speaking, the mechanic was probably right… But the term sounded derogatory, or like she was some sci-fi heroine. She was human, first and foremost. Many of her ancestors had never used their abilities, fearful of the consequences if they showed their difference. Yes, she had a unique way of healing herself and other, but that was not _all_ she was.

 

''Whatever. Bellamy has tried to kill at least three people, and is indirectly responsible for the death of three hundreds in the culling. Why the hell are you helping him?'' She argued.

 

The blonde pinched the bridge of her nose. ''I am not helping him! Excuse me for hoping that our people returning to the ground means that they will stop killing whoever put a toe out of line!'' She shot back. ''And believe it or not, he did help keep the camp organized and under control. Yes, I hate how he did it, but it was chaos until he took control. And none of his three victims actually died, right?''

 

The Commander intervened. ''I agree with Raven. No matter his lack of success, he has already resorted to murder for personal gain several times. He should not be forgiven just because he was exceptionally bad at it.''

 

She sighed. ''That's the thing. I am not sure it was personal gain that motivated him. It was Octavia.''

 

''Isn't that the girl that disappeared with one of my scouts?'' Lexa asked, trying to follow the logic despite having only heard the names a couple of times and having no faces to connect them to.

 

Clarke nodded. ''Yes. She is Bellamy's sister, and he went on the dropship to protect her. I saw how the others treated her, I can't blame him for wanting to come along. She spent the last year estranged from everyone and being called 'the girl under the floor'.'' She reminisced.

 

She had befriended the girl, and though she was clearly going through a rebel phase, she had been a caring and strong young girl. Given that she had basically been raised by Bellamy and her mother, she found it hard to believe that the boy was as heartless as his actions made him seem.

 

'''The girl under the floor'?'' Lexa quoted, confused. ''Why call her that?''

 

Clarke smiled sadly. ''I told you there was a one child policy on the Ark. Octavia is a second child. Her mother hid her in a hole under the floor for fifteen years. Then she was found, her mother was executed and Octavia was thrown into a cell, with other delinquents she had never met before. Her social skills are not exactly the best, growing up as she did.''

 

''It certainly doesn't sound like an enjoyable childhood. But Bellamy's actions are his own, and cannot go unanswered. He chose to kill three times already. He cannot be trusted.'' Lexa cautioned.

 

''I never said they should. But I do believe he has some… mitigating circumstances.'' She concluded with a shrug. ''I just think it is fair to give him a chance to defend himself.''

 

Raven nodded reluctantly and Lexa escorted her back to Bellamy's cell. She explained to him that they had managed to contact the Ark and that a delegation would land soon. He would be judged for his crimes by whoever was sent, but Clarke and the Commander would only release their custody of him in exchange of a promise of a fair trial. The boy mostly nodded along with everything that was being said, and answered all their questions about the Mountain. He had not snooped around like Monty, so they learned almost nothing from him, aside from the kind of guns the guards carried.

 

Once she was finished, Clarke turned around to leave when he addressed her.

 

''For what it's worth, I am glad you survived. I don't know how you did, but I am glad I did not kill you.'' He said softly but clearly.

 

She turned back to him, Lexa still observing the scene quietly.

 

''Why?''

 

''I… I don't hate you, or anything. I never have. I just wanted to protect Octavia, and I knew I wouldn't be able to do that if they came down. I tried to sway the others so they wouldn't listen to you, but you are smart and they were starting to realize it too.''

 

He smiled. Clarke raised a corner of her lips, uncertain if she should interpret his words as a compliment or not.

 

''I regretted pushing you as soon as I did it. Hell, even before that. But I could think of no other way to keep my sister safe. Wells was already dead, and I thought that if you died as well, the Council would give up.'' He continued. ''So, yeah. I am glad you're okay. Raven too. She is almost as stubborn as you.''

 

His voice broke a little. ''Have you… You would tell me if you heard about Octavia, right?''

 

''We are looking for her. Don't worry, unless she committed a crime against the grounders, she will be welcome here. I'll make sure of it.'' She assured him. Though, honestly, the fact that she had fled with a scout was not helping.

 

''Thank you Clarke. And, well, sorry. For everything.''

 

She nodded and left the room. She sighed once she was out of earshot from him. What the hell would happen if they found Octavia? The girl loved her brother as well, even if she had chosen to leave the camp with a grounder.

 

She glanced at Lexa over her shoulder. She did not want to judge Bellamy, because she already knew in her mind the sentence she should ask for: death, or some equivalent like life-long imprisonment or banishment. And she did not want to order such a thing. It was not her place to do such a thing. She was healer. She shouldn't be planning a war or passing judgement. She feared the harsh ways of the Commander were rubbing off on her.

 

That was an unfair thought, though. Condemnations in the Ark were worse. They just had a cleaner way of doing things than bleeding the culprits.

 


	17. Lost and found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

The following day, Lexa asked Clarke to attend the meeting with the ambassadors. Azgeda had finally sent a replacement, and she felt it was the right time to announce that the Commander would now have emissaries in each of the clans.

 

The Commander, after many interviews and deliberations, had decided to send one senior ambassador along with an apprentice – whom she had found while searching for an apprentice for Titus. They would of course be accompanied by some guards, but she kept the number of warriors to a minimum. She did not want the new measure to be perceived as an attack or a threat.

 

The announcement was met with a lot of grumbling by the representatives from the most powerful clans – Azgeda being the loudest – but the smaller clans that had benefited a lot from the improved trade with the Coalition quickly declared their support. Lack of arguments forced the totality of the clans to agree to house the Commander's representatives for at least a year before the matter might be discussed again. Though Lexa had told Clarke that she expected her ambassadors to encounter a lot of animosity and interference in some clans.

 

Meanwhile, Murphy had completed his first two board games. One was a military campaign where each player had a small army and a different objective to complete – defend a zone, retrieve an object in an enemy's camp, etc – and the other was a civilization building one where the players had to manage and trade resources to expand their respective cities and lands.

 

Clarke brought him and his games to Lexa, where the boy explained the rules and grand principles of each game. She allowed him to direct one game with the Nightbloods to test them, and observed the proceedings attentively with Clarke. The blonde could see the interest and enjoyment growing in her eyes as she witnessed the joy and seriousness of her charges as they applied everything they had learned from their _Heda_ in those games. Murphy was first surprised by the proficiency of the children, as some were only four or five years old, but soon assumed his role of game master with delight.

 

Even Titus, who had been vocal in his doubt of the activity, grew silent and watchful as he observed. The man had been growing more and more insufferable lately, which Clarke interpreted as him not finding an apprentice that suited him. When Lexa decided that the Nightbloods would regularly play the two games as a way to train their negotiating and managing skills, he did not protest.

 

Clarke wasn't sure what Lexa planned to do with the _Fleimkeepa_. As far as she knew, all the promising teenagers she had found had been sent to the twelve clans to train under Lexa's new ambassadors. But the current Flame keeper seemed unable to settle on an apprentice. She had seen him having a few young girls or boys follow him around for a day or two. None had met the Nightbloods, or got within ten meters of _Heda_ , and all had obviously been dismissed.

 

''You said he used to have an apprentice. What's the story, then? Did the apprentice leave? Did he die?'' She asked Lexa one day after the young leader remarked that the time limit she had set for her advisor was fast approaching.

 

''I do not know the details. It happened very shortly after I was brought to Polis, so I must have been only two or three. Flame keepers are not supposed to be warriors, but Titus' apprentice was sent to train with other _Sekens_. He died, but I think it was unclear whether that was from an attack or an accident.'' She replied.

 

''And he hasn't tried to find a new apprentice ever since?''

 

''Either that or he never found one that suited him. This apprentice had already been with him for years, as I understand. His death hit him hard.'' Lexa added.

 

Clarke frowned. ''Is that when he started sprouting that 'Love is weakness' nonsense to all the _natblidas_?''

 

The Commander paused in her eating as she considered her healer's words. ''I do not know. He has been saying it as far as I can remember. I just assumed he always did.''

 

''But the Commanders before you, did they shun away from all relationships? Did the _Heda_ that raised you ever tell you that you had to be alone if you became _Heda_?'' Clarke insisted.

 

''Not… specifically.'' She admitted. ''But he did advise us against relationships until our Conclave – it wouldn't be fair to our partner. And warned that we might not be as impartial as we ought to be as _Heda_ if we were involved with someone from a clan.''

 

Clarke wanted to ask if other Commanders had taken lovers or spouses – Lexa had had Costia, until she was killed – and how the people had usually taken it. However, she felt that the subject was not a safe one, considering her own attraction to the young leader. She had already decided that she shouldn't pursue her.

 

She paused in her thoughts and discretely glanced at the other woman. Why had she decided that again?

 

Ah yes, ambassadors should not date the other party. But, the Ark would take over soon, right? So maybe it would be alright now?

 

She shook her head. No, Lexa had lost a lover, and more recently a child. Granted, Strina was not her daughter biologically speaking but she had raised the girl for years. The death had hit her hard, even though grounder culture was not big on showing your feelings – at least in the Tower, it seemed different amongst the citizens – she had seen it.

 

She should not push. Besides, Lexa was older and seemed half-convinced she would die soon. She doubted the brunette was looking for a relationship. Moreover, she was unsure this relationship would be advisable. What if it didn't work out?

 

''Are you alright, _Klark_?'' Lexa asked, worry slightly tainting her voice.

 

Of course, she had been zoning out and shaking her head at nothing.

 

''I am. Just thinking. Still no news from the Ark, or of Octavia and that scout?'' She asked, deeming that she needed a change of subject.

 

''The Exodus is scheduled to land in two days, _Klark_.'' Lexa scolded her gently. ''And it will take at least another day for a riding messenger to reach Polis. As for Octavia, I received a note from Anya this morning.''

 

''And you did not tell me?'' Clarke said, feeling betrayed by the omission.

 

Lexa smiled reassuringly. ''I was going to. The note only says that she found where they are, and that she is escorting them to Polis as we speak. There are no other details, aside from the scout's name – Lincoln.''

 

She sagged in her seat. ''That's it? Are all your generals so laconic in their correspondence?'' She sneered, disappointed. She did not really care for the scout's name. She would have preferred reassurances that Octavia was okay.

 

''Your proficiency in writing is an exceptional skill for my people, _Klark_. My generals simply do not see the point of wasting time writing down non vital information that they will soon share orally.'' Lexa explained, still calm.

 

Clarke felt guilty for her outburst. ''Sorry. The whole situation with the Ark, and waiting for Mount Weather to attack… I feel stressed, I guess.''

 

''You are not used to campaign. Your reaction is normal. On my first campaigns, I would spend the days and hours before the battle frantically reviewing my plans. But it is no use. Plans rarely last in battle.''

 

She paused. ''Though I must admit that I have never prepared a campaign quite like we did for the Mountain. I usually have a main plan and some ideas of what I can do if things don't turn out how I want them to. You and I have planned for nearly all possible outcomes – I am confident this will work, though I hope the clans will not frown on my decision not to involve them in preparations.''

 

''You had a hard time accepting that the Mountain's arrogant attitude should be encouraged and used. If the chief clans are half as proud as their ambassadors, they would never have accepted our plans.'' Clarke reminded her.

 

''I know. That is why I find the games made by your friend so interesting. They will force the _natblidas_ to learn this kind of military approach, rather than just numbers and positioning. And it teaches them to take into account their opponents' character and sometimes illogical or unexpected reactions.''

 

She rose from her seat to return to her duties as she gave one last advice. ''You should do something that relaxes you. The battle may still be weeks away – months if the snow comes first. You will be exhausted by the time it happens if you do not calm your nerves.''

 

Clarke decided to listen to her and offered herself an afternoon free of tedious reading. Now that she had sorted all the books she knew, she had to read – or really, skid – through the unknown books. Some were interesting, or even fun. Others – many – were simply boring.

 

Instead, she went to her rooms and picked up the art projects she had neglected these last couple of weeks. Strina's portrait was the only one she had finished before Monty's and Bellamy's arrival.

 

She took out her drawings of Polis and Lexa, adding some details and smoothing lines until she was satisfied with the effect. Then, staring at Lexa's and Strina's faces, she decided to draw all the important people in her life – alive or dead.

 

She started with her father. It had been over a year since his death, she realized as she sketched his jaw. And several months since she had drawn him. She had done it in solitary, sometimes. But she would never let the drawing on the wall for long – looking at his face was too painful. Yet she had kept drawing him the first few weeks, terrified she would forget his face if she didn't.

 

And then, one day, she had been unable to draw him. She still remembered his face, that was not the problem. So she had started to draw other things that reminded her of him. His watch. The flowers he used to show her in picture books. How he imagined the moon looked like from the ground.

 

And slowly, she had kept drawing anything that came to mind, and stopped thinking of her father. Her mind going numb with the weight of solitude, she had felt the need to draw the faces of the prisoners she caught only glimpses of when she was escorted to the bathroom.

 

Now, she discovered that her father's face was still as bright in her memory, her fingers tracing the lines without her even needing to consciously direct them to. But seeing his face slowly appearing on the paper did not bring the same pain in her chest that always had accompanied drawing him on her wall. As she tried to catch on paper the glint he had in his eyes whenever he was doing something mischievous, her heart did not hurt as much as it used too. She smiled.

 

Time healed all wounds. It seemed that old saying was true, after all. Or perhaps it was Lexa, Raven, Monty and the children that had given her heart something else to pour her love into.

 

She moved on to a drawing of Jasper, but gave up half-way through it. Seeing his face was still painful. She felt guilty for not saving him with her gift because she was convinced this red seaweed would do the trick. It might have, if Bellamy and the others had not decided to end the boy's suffering. She would never know.

 

She also felt guilty for not revealing her abilities to Monty. She was terrified the boy would resent her, and she did not want to lose her friend. He was busy with Raven and the preparations for Mount Weather, and had not questioned why the grounders called her 'Healing Nymph' – or just thought it was because of her training in medicine. But she knew it was only a matter of time until he found out.

 

She drew Wells more easily, though her heart still clenched at the sight of his boyish features. He had been so young. Several months younger than her. Yet she had always thought of him as some sort of big brother, watching out for her and keeping the bullies away at school.

 

Then, she decided to draw Aden. She loved all the children, but she had an especially soft spot for the blond boy. He was the oldest, and reminded her a lot of Lexa in the way he seemed to carry half the world on his small shoulders. Titus teachings were also visible in his guarded and overly serious attitude, while the younger nightbloods still retained some childish exuberance. But Lexa's lessons were also evident in the way he quietly took care of his young classmates. He was always the last one to go to sleep, checking on the others, and the one to volunteer when Titus proposed an activity no one wanted to partake in. He had his mentor's sense of sacrifice. It was as endearing as it was frightening.

 

She also drew the other nightbloods, in order of age. Perni, a black-haired boy that was about eight. Calia, a clear-eyed girl with dark skin – she had found the combination breath-taking. Then Minnea with her hazel eyes, whom she drew with her current smile – lips closed because she was embarrassed by her moving teeth, no matter how many times Clarke or Lexa told her it was perfectly normal. Next was Washi, also six and losing teeth, a cute little boy with hair a shade lighter than Lexa's.

 

Finally, she drew Rawon and Niom, the two four year-old boys. She had been surprised when Lexa mentioned that they were twins. Fraternal, as they did not look like each other – their eyes were different colors, and Rawon's hair was significantly darker. Clarke had suspected that they were related, but she was still not used to the concept of biological siblings. She knew all there was to know about it, but she had spent seventeen years in an only child society. Her only experiences in dealing with siblings were Bellamy and Octavia, and the kids from the first village she had stumbled upon.

 

Her gaze dropped to the pile of plant drawings she had yet to finish and she felt a little guilty for not finishing them instead. She had hoped to send them before snow arrived and made travel more difficult for a messenger with a fragile package. Worse, she prided herself on being a healer, but recently she had spent more time planning a war than learning herbal medicine.

 

Oh, she visited the Polis healers for at least an hour everyday, but she was usually assaulted with people with badly healing wounds or incurable diseases. She could never refuse to heal them – some had traveled from quite far with a loved one, despite being unsure they would have enough time to return home before winter. Sometimes, such people would even apply directly at the entrance of the Tower.

 

All in all, the time she spent in healer's homes had not really been dedicated to learning how to use this new pharmacopeia. With a sigh, she pulled out the drawings and notes and started to review them. It reminded her of the digital books from her mother that she studied whenever possible. It was not rare, on the Ark, to have a sort of apprenticeship long before finishing school. People who were idling were looked down upon, seen as a waste of resources. She knew many people took the first job they were offered out of fear of being shunned, rather than wait for a better opportunity. People like Raven, with both the talent and the drive to apply for a job in which they had no relatives to recommend them, were rare.

 

This quiet afternoon did help her recover a sense of calm that had eluded her lately. She could feel her mind taking a step back, acknowledging that she had done whatever she could for now, and that things would unfold one way or another and she would just have to deal with it. Grounders had many political divisions. So what if the people from the Ark separated in several factions once they reached the ground? Did it matter if Jaha was killed? Everyone hoped to return to the ground, and the whole Council now knew it was safe. Her concern was for the general population of the Ark, not one man she disliked.

 

She went to sleep early, hoping that she would be able to compensate some of the short nights she had had over the last few days. The nightbloods fell asleep as she started the second chapter of _The Chamber of Secrets_ and she hugged Aden after he settled in his own bed with _The Hobbit_ – he was almost half-way through. She bid good night to Lexa as they walked up, and thanked her for her advice. It was dark in the passage, but she was certain she saw a soft smile play on her lips in the candlelight.

 

She awoke with the sun, which was later than usual for her. Even after over a month on the ground, she still had trouble evaluating time from candles and the sun. She knew the days were growing shorter, but not all the candles melted at the same pace – which made the candle-mark very imprecise in her mind. She had taken the habit of just being early whenever she was given a precise time to be somewhere.

 

She spent her morning in her usual routine – she skipped drawing since she was late – meeting Lexa for breakfast and then giving lessons to the Natblidas. Today was a morning spent in the training glade – which she both loved and hated. She enjoyed being outside, seeing the children play in between spars, or the few proud moments when she hit her target with an arrow. She hated, however, when Lexa trained with her and she spent more time sprawled in the dirt than standing. It was a painful reminder that she came from a different culture – though she knew it was absolutely not what the young woman intended – no matter how much she felt like she fit in.

 

With the Ark coming down, she felt torn. She wanted to stay with Lexa and the children, but she feared the platonic relationship would grow painful. And she felt somewhat apart from everyone. The warriors deferred to her, the inhabitants of Polis looked up to her. There were very few people with whom she could feel like a normal person and an equal – Raven, Murphy, Monty and Lexa.

 

On the other hand, the people from the Ark saw her as nothing special, and would not have such high expectations for her. She understood their culture because she had grown with it, even though she did not approve a lot of it – not that she wholly approved the grounders' either, but she knew how committed Lexa was to improve it. She had no such assurances with the Council. But in many ways, life with the Ark people would be easier, and probably less painful.

 

It would not be as fulfilling. She was already certain of that. A month in Polis had taught her more about herself than seventeen years in the Ark.

 

After landing on her bottom for the fifth time, she begged Lexa to switch to daggers. She had given up on swords, her coordination was simply not good enough. She constantly misjudged the distances, making her step too close to her opponent or slash when she was a good two feet away from her target. The brunette had not commented on it, simply suggested that they focused on weapons she felt more comfortable with.

 

Watching the Commander spar with Aden was always impressive. They were fast, precise, always stepping one way and then the other, pushing back and forth, parrying and deflecting blows that Clarke only saw once they were stopped by the other. To see an eleven boy with such skill was amazing – and somewhat disturbing, but she had grown used to it, and she preferred to think about him being able to defend himself. Meanwhile, she could tell that Lexa was holding back.

 

So far, she had never seen Lexa give her best in a fight. When they had been attacked, she had not payed attention to the fight, but even so she could tell that the opponents had relied on surprise more than skills. She had heard that the Commander regularly fought several warriors from her guard, but it usually happened during afternoons, so she had always been busy in the library.

 

This afternoon, however, they expected to see Anya with her recently found fugitives. Lexa had warned Clarke that, no matter what Octavia had done or not, Lincoln abandoning his post and fleeing with a potential enemy was treason. It would have to be condemned some way or another.

 

They received a message that Anya had crossed the city gates and went to the throne room to await her. Clarke was nervous about seeing the blonde general again.

 

She had been angry when they had met the first time, but she now knew that the general had not truly been to blame – even Murphy's torture had been mild compared to what she knew the grounders could do. She had also learned more of the relationship between Lexa and her former mentor, so she hoped to make a better impression this time.

 

When the doors opened, though, her eyes were drawned to Octavia.

 

The rebellious girl was gone. Instead, she was facing a young, brunette grounder dressed as and with the hairdo of a warrior. There were no weapons on her – as was the rule for most inside the Tower – but she could see a sword sheath protruding from her back and several places for daggers around her waist. She had grown muscles as well, and her eyes had lost some of the childish wonder and constant challenging look she remembered from the dropship.

 

She had matured, and found a place to belong to. If she had not known her from before, she would never have suspected that this was the same socially awkward girl that had grown under the floor in the Ark.

 

It was also comforting to see that someone other than herself had embraced the local culture. Clarke herself now wore braids in her hair daily – though simpler ones than those she had had Raven help her with for the ceremonial occasions, so she could do them herself – and favored the clothing Lexa had provided her and that was similar to that of any ambassador.

 

Raven and Monty, on the other hand, kept their clothes from the dropship or chose clothing that was most similar to it, and she had yet to see the mechanic with a single braid, or Monty with a beard. She was unsure about Murphy. His choice of clothing seemed purely random – she had seen him wearing both style, sometimes even a strange and dubious mix of them, but she had yet to figure out any logic in what was worn when – and he seemed to be growing a beard. But whether it was an attempt to fit in with the grounders or him trying on a new look, she didn't know.

 

Octavia had once claimed that she did not care about the Ark. Clearly, she had decided to make the most of this new start of the ground, and had embraced her lover's culture. Clarke even noticed a little smear of war paint near her right ear. She did not have any tattoo, but Lexa had explained that these had often a lot of signification in the different clans, and were usually awarded in a ceremony. If Lincoln had been on the run, it was unlikely they had visited a village for Octavia to get the mark of a hunter or warrior.

 

Then she shifted her eyes to the left and took in the huge, dark-skinned man that accompanied her. He had tattoos on his chest, made visible by his partially torn shirt, but none on his face – marking him as a senior scout, but not an officer, as she had learned from her stay in Polis. She noticed that his hands were loosely tied, while Octavia's were free. From the way the two interacted, it was clear that they were involved.

 

And from the glare Octavia sent the general whenever she wasn't looking, Clarke estimated that her new-found maturity had not rid her of her spunk.

 

It was reassuring, somehow.

 

Anya walked up to the dais and bowed. As she straightened up, Clarke saw her glance at her. She offered her a brief nod and a small smile, and the general responded with a sharp jutting of her chin and – more significantly – by moving her right hand away from her sword.

 

Clarke concealed a sigh of relief by moving her head slightly to the side, in a show of looking to the Commander. Only _Heda_ and her guards or generals were allowed to keep weapons in the Tower since Strina's death and the traitorous ambassador, but most visiting generals divested them when entering the throne room. The healer was quite sure that Anya had only been allowed to keep hers because of her unique relationship with Lexa, and that she had opted to use this favor because she did not fully trust Clarke.

 

She would have to talk to the other blonde at some point. But at least this meeting would not end with the sword's point against her throat.

 

Lexa welcomed her old mentor with a thin smile that disappeared as soon as she turned to the two accompanying figures.

 

'' _Okteivia kom Skaikru_ , I welcome you to Polis. We may discuss future arrangements for you later.'' She greeted formally before addressing her traitorous scout.

 

'' _Linkon_. I will hear you now. What do you wish to say regarding your actions?''

 

Her tone was cold, and Clarke felt a shiver run down her spine even though it wasn't directed at her. A few weeks earlier, Lexa would probably have been more annoyed than anything by the circumstances – a scout running away because he was in love – and given him a relatively light punishment. Like a banishment from his clan but without depriving him of the right to ask for shelter in Polis or any other clan that was willing to accept him.

 

But since the recent revelation of Tower guards involved with Azgeda's conspiracy, treason had become a touchy subject. She would grill Lincoln until she was absolutely certain that he had nothing to do with Nia, and even then she would probably feel less inclined to clemency.

 

''I apologize, _Heda_. I know what I did was wrong, but I felt that we should attempt to talk to the sky people before attacking them.'' He replied.

 

From his uncertain voice, Clarke could tell that he did not believe in his own argument. A really inadvisable thing when sparring words with the Commander.

 

''Don't you have an officer to whom to go when you have such ideas to propose?'' The woman immediately shot back, acidly.

 

Anya grunted her assent.

 

The huge man seemed to shorten under his Commander's glare.

 

'' _Sha, Heda_.'' He replied meekly.

 

Meanwhile, Clarke saw Octavia's eyes widen as she finally noticed her. She supposed that her own appearance had changed more than she thought, since the girl looked her up and down several times before mouthing her name with a surprised look. Or perhaps she was trying to figure out how exactly the supposedly dead 'Princess' now found herself standing on the right side of the Commander.

 

Octavia's sky origins were betrayed in her lack of discipline when she interrupted the interrogation that could decide the life or death of her companion.

 

''How the hell are you here?'' She demanded, her hand reflexively going over her shoulder to grasp her absent sword, swearing loudly when her fingers closed on empty air.

 

Lexa rolled her eyes and sighed – Clarke sent her an apologetic and amused look, knowing the brunette had had to get used to such behavior from her other sky friends.

 

The Commander turned her face to Clarke, though her eyes remained focused on the other brunette.

 

''Her brother tried to kill you, and she just threatened you. Are you certain she can be trusted?'' She asked.

 

Octavia's hand dropped to her side. ''What? Bell tried to kill you? He is here?'' She fired her questions as she took several steps towards the blonde healer. Lexa and Anya frowned in response and Lincoln hastily grabbed her shoulder with his tied hands to stop his lover from antagonizing the powerful warriors any further.

 

''She was my friend, and I doubt she had anything to do with Bellamy's attempt against me. I have no idea what she went through since then, but she has always been a hot-head. I don't think she meant to threaten me just now.'' Clarke replied to Lexa before turning to Octavia.

 

''Or did you?'' She wondered out loud. She had no idea what the brunette could have heard about the Healing Nymph, or what she might have become over the last few weeks. For all she knew, the couple might have sought refuge in _Azgeda_ since Lincoln had betrayed _Trikru_.

 

''No!'' The brunette cried vehemently. ''What is that about Bellamy trying to kill you? Have you seen him? What about the others – the camp looked abandoned when that woman dragged us by it.'' She jutted her chin towards Anya and Clarke refrained the urge to facepalm.

 

Was it too much to ask for friends that did not repeatedly insult the people she was trying to negotiate their life and freedom with?

 

Before anyone could react though, a guard knocked loudly against the doors and proclaimed that an urgent message had arrived for the Commander and the Nymph.

 

They exchanged a surprised look. There was only one subject that would result in a message explicitly addressed to both of them: the Ark.

 

The Commander called out to let the messenger in, and gestured to Anya to push her prisoners to the side of the room. Octavia dropped into a chair and shot back up when the general kicked her shin.

 

A young woman in riding gear came in and bowed to Lexa and Clarke while the healer took a step closer, worried. If it was a message from the radio, she would have recognized the girl – she knew everyone in the Tower by face now – and there would have been no need for riding gear. Her heart pounded in her chest. Something had happened.

 

'' _Heda_ , Nymph. The metal ship you warned us about appeared early. It landed in a ball of flames, several miles away from where it was supposed to. We went to investigate and welcome the delegation, but…'' The girl's face turned ashen from the memories. ''There was no one alive. We only found torn pieces of metal and burned bodies. We haven't dared to investigate the site again since something exploded. Only one warrior was injured, thankfully.''

 

Clarke felt the blood drain from her face and her legs wobbled. Lexa rose from her throne and put an anchoring hand on her shoulder while she dismissed the messenger for now and told Anya to guard the other two for now. The sounds seemed muffled to Clarke's ears as the blood returned, pumping in full force against her eardrums. She took a shaky step forward, stumbling as she failed to register the edge of the dais, and the pain of her knee hitting the ground shook her out of her stupor.

 

She started running to the door, ignoring Lexa calling after her, as a sole idea filled her mind: get to the radio and contact the Ark to find out what happened – and whether or not her mother had been aboard the Exodus. The familiar hallways faded into a blur as her feet carried her down the stairs to Raven's room.

 

She barged into the room and nearly dived to the button of the radio.

 

''Clarke to the Ark! Do you read me? Ark, can you hear me? Ark?'' She cried in a broken voice.

 

The button became blurry as she insisted. ''Mom? Mom, are you there? Clarke Griffin to the Ark, can anyone hear me?''

 

Static was the only thing to be heard when she released the button. Her heart rose in her throat. She fumbled to push it one more time, her voice now reduced to a pleading whisper.

 

''Ark, do you read me? This is Clarke Griffin. Can anyone hear me?''

 

A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and gently pulled her away from the radio.

 

''Clarke… Connection is lost. There is no one up there that can hear you.'' She recognized Raven's voice, though it lacked its usual sass. ''Do you know what happened?'' She continued as she turned Clarke in her arms to face her, a slight tremble entering her voice.

 

The blonde buried her head against her friend's shoulder. ''The… the Exodus crashed. No one made it.'' She stammered out as she started sobbing in earnest, letting grief consume her.


	18. Last contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I update a bit early, because this week-end is going to be busy...  
> Also, you may notice that this story is now part of a series. Part two is about Titus' story, and his years as Flame keeper until Lexa formed the Coalition. It is ony a one-shot for now, but I will later write his point of view of Lexa and Clarke meeting, attacking the Mountain, etc. Check it out and tell me what you think if you can tolerate reading about the bald man. There will be references to some things in this story, but you don't need to read it to understand Clarke and Lexa's journey.  
> Anyway: new chapter, from Lexa's POV.

Lexa stood silently, leaning against the frame of the door. She had followed Clarke's desperate run down to the mechanic's room and had caught up quickly enough to hear the blonde's pleas to the silent radio. She was unsure how the young woman had guessed that something was wrong with the Ark from the news of the Exodus ship's crash, but her heart clenched as she witnessed her pain.

 

She had never seen someone break down so completely in front of others. Her culture discouraged marked emotions outside the sphere of close family in general, and _natblidas_ were often even less expressive because of their limited interactions with others and general expectations.

 

And Clarke was not alone in her grief, as Raven was now rocking her while silent tears ran down her own cheeks, and the boy Monty had fallen into the nearest chair, his head buried in his hands as his shoulders shook quietly.

 

She was used to going anywhere she wished within the Tower, and had never felt out of place in any of its rooms before. It was her home, and even places she rarely went to – like the kitchens or the barracks – were a part of it and brought her a feeling of belonging. But right now, seeing the common grief of the three young people, she felt like she was intruding and was unable to cross the threshold. Yet, she felt deep in her chest the need to comfort the blonde girl she had grown so fond of, like she had supported the nightbloods and herself after Strina's death.

 

But she did not have the faintest idea of how to do it.

 

She was no stranger to the pain of losing someone – Costia, the previous _Heda_ and all her fellow _natblidas_ , just to name a few – but most of these deaths had been… expected. _Heda_ would die, and his death would be followed by the Conclave. Her own survival implied the deaths of the others. Once Costia had been captured, there had been little doubt in her mind about her eventual fate.

She doubted it had made the pain any more bearable, but it had at least been expected. She had been able to brace herself before taking on the crushing weight of grief, and had turned her focus to her duties. Hoping the weight of her many responsibilities would help her ignore the weight of her losses.

 

Furthermore, she had never really gone through the process of mourning, or at least not in the way she had witnessed some of her people do. She suppressed her emotions, and used their boiling as a fuel for her duties. She did not yell, beg the Spirit to give her back her loved ones, or fall in a state of melancholy. She had never truly received comfort in such moments either. She was _Heda_. She was the Spirit's chosen. To her people, she was not exactly human.

 

So she stood awkwardly on the threshold, unsure of what to say or do, and equally unable to just leave the uncomfortable situation. She raised a hand with the intent to lay it on Clarke's shoulder, but realized half-way through that the blonde was too far from her to make contact. She nervously clasped her hands behind her back. Then she thought the posture was too formal for the intimate scene she was watching and let her arms hang down her sides. She blinked, not sure of why she suddenly felt like crying when she was not the one who had suffered a loss.

 

After several long minutes, the sounds of Clarke's sobs stopped, though the young woman was still heaving against Raven's chest. Lexa finally dared to step inside the room, and approached the radio. She stared at it, hoping that it would somehow come back to life. She understood little about how exactly it worked, but she had seen the others use it enough to know how to send a message.

 

She hesitated, hand hovering near the button. She glanced at the sky people. None were looking at her. Should she try? Raven had said the connection was lost, but perhaps she was wrong?

 

For Clarke's sake, she hoped the mechanic had been mistaken.

 

She bit the inside of her cheeks. Hesitation was not something she was used to. Not until she met Clarke, and found herself faced with a culture she had never learned about.

 

Steeling herself, she moved her hand forwards. Her mouth felt dry as she mentally repeated what she would say.

 

Just as her fingers brushed the button, static was abruptly broken by a loud cracking. She jumped back, her right hand gripping her sword as she crouched in a defensive stance between the device and the two embracing young women behind her. She quickly relaxed when a disjointed voice emanated from the radio, silently thanking the Spirit for answering her prayers.

 

''Ark… rth… He… me?…''

 

Lexa could not recognize the voice with all the static, so she glanced behind her. Clarke's eyes were red and puffy, but hope covered her features. She stumbled next to Lexa, half falling on the table as she hurried to press the button.

 

''Clarke Griffin, from Earth. We hear you! Ark, what happened?'' The blonde panted, breath short from all the conflicting emotions of the last few minutes.

 

The static lessened as whoever had managed to contact replied and Raven was twiddling with other buttons. Lexa guessed that this meant the connection had been only temporarily broken, and was now restored. She discretely let out a sigh of relief.

 

''Clarke! This is Marcus Kane. The Ark has been damaged when the Exodus was hijacked. Be careful when they arrive, do not trust Diana Sydney!'' The man's voice warned.

 

She saw Clarke stare dully at the radio, probably pondering whether or not to share the news. She decided to take matters into her own hands. She once again approached the table and this time she actually pushed the reply button.

 

''Councilor Kane, this is the Commander. We just received news from my scouts that the Exodus crashed – there were no survivors. Can you tell me what happened?'' She asked, keeping her tone professional.

 

She was about to start a war against the Mountain, she could not waste time dealing with political struggles of the Sky people. But it would be unfair to dismiss it all when Clarke and her friends had helped her so much and were key factors in their plans.

 

The blonde prevented her from releasing the button by grasping her wrist.

 

''Kane, was my mother aboard the ship?'' She asked in a trembling voice.

 

Suddenly, Clarke's hurry to contact the Ark and her despair at the news of the crash made a lot more sense. Lexa had not really cared who was on this first ship – she knew no one from this Ark, and she was used to dealing with fools in negotiations, whatever their names were. But Clarke and the others had friends and family in this spaceship. She had not paid much attention to the debates, but she had heard the healer's mother mentioned as one that might be on the ship.

 

They had never received the final list, as the Exodus was not supposed to leave yet. And since it had apparently been hijacked by another group, the blonde had absolutely no idea where her mother was at the moment.

 

And this Kane had said that the Ark was damaged. What did that mean exactly?

 

''Your mother is alive.'' The man immediately reassured.

 

Clarke's shoulders visibly relaxed at the piece of information, but Lexa remained tense. There was something in Kane's voice, in his eagerness to reassure the young woman that worried her.

 

''But… Well the Ark is not doing well. Diana and a huge group from Work and Farm Stations took over the Exodus as we were preparing it. They planted a bomb in the Council room as distraction – Jaha is dead, along with three other members. I was late, and it saved my life. We rushed to the Exodus, but most of Diana's people had boarded already, so she initiated launching.'' He explained haltingly.

 

''She… rushed the procedure. Your mother tried to open the airlock to stop it, but Diana disconnected manually. It damaged a lot of things on the Ark, most programs were still joined. The Exodus must have been similarly damaged, and it was overloaded. I guess it is not so surprising it crashed…'' He concluded weakly, sounding overwhelmed.

 

It was Raven who pushed the blonde aside to take control of the discussion. Lexa had watched the others as Kane explained – she had long learned that you could hear a lot of things in a voice besides the words, just as you could learn a lot by watching people's reactions to the words. Clarke and Monty showed some slight uncertainty and fear – Raven had been downright terrified and analytical. The Latina was a mechanic, and she had apparently understood a lot of unsaid things.

 

''This is Raven. How is the Ark? What about the oxygen levels, and basic programs of maintenance? With this kind of improper disconnection…'' She pressed.

 

The man sounded defeated. ''Most protocols are useless. Oxygen is very low – we have two or three days left at most. It depends on how many survivors there are. Parts of the Ark fell off, and we don't have enough power to properly launch the only functioning Exodus we have left.'' He summed up.

 

There was a long pause.

 

Raven spoke up. ''And if you use the thrusters to leave the orbit and go to Earth?''

 

Lexa wasn't sure what this meant, but from the shock look Clarke threw her friend, and the clenched jaw of the brunette, it was not a safe suggestion.

 

''The… The Ark would fall apart in the atmosphere. It would be suicide.'' Kane replied after a while.

 

''Most of the Ark, yeah. But some parts are stronger and should resist. Is Sinclair alive? I am sure he could figure out which ones!'' The Latina insisted.

 

Another man's voice answered her. ''I am here. And that… might work. I will get to it.''

 

Lexa felt Clarke move beside her, lurching forward slightly as if suddenly awakening from a dream.

 

''Raven… They won't be able to aim precisely where they land – the surviving parts will probably land in distinct places.'' She cautioned, pushing the button in order not to exclude the others from the discussion. ''We may not be able to help them, and they could land in a dangerous place.''

 

 _Azgeda_ , Lexa immediately thought. Or the Dead Lands. Either options weren't good. She had mostly kept the origins of her Nymph hidden, because she could not afford Clan chiefs questioning her decisions when she was about to ask them for reinforcements against the _Maunon_. It was why she had chosen a landing site in _Trikru_ , and relatively close to Polis.

 

But at this point, she doubted the Ark would care if their arrival inconvenienced her and her Coalition.

 

The other man, Sinclair, answered in a tired voice. ''You don't have to worry about that, Clarke. Thanks to Newton's Third Law, the Exodus brutal launching threw us from our usual orbit – that's part of why we lost contact for a while. By the time we prepare everything and attempt to land, we won't be over the East Coast anymore.''

 

Lexa had no idea who Newton was and how his laws pertained to the situation, but she understood that the Ark would land much farther than expected. Clarke had used the name East Coast before, when Lexa had showed her maps of the Coalition's lands to prepare against Mount Weather, and search for a safe landing site for her people.

 

The blonde had even drawn a rough map she had called a planisphere, and then circled the area she called East Coast on it. She had claimed that this map represented the whole world. Lexa would have scoffed at the idea if she did not trust the young healer so completely.

 

She had never thought of her Coalition as small before.

 

It was Clarke who asked the question that was forming in her mind.

 

''Where will you land, then? Do you know?''

 

Her voice was strangled, and her eyes shiny. She was holding back tears. Lexa glanced around the room. Raven seemed sad and resigned, Monty was stunned – she was unsure of whether or not he comprehended what was being said. She belatedly realized that the other boy, Murphy, was absent. Given the time, he was probably with the Nightbloods and Titus while they practiced with one of his management simulations.

 

She exited briefly and gestured a guard closer, whispering to him that he should relay news of the Ark's worsening condition to the Sky boy. She had a feeling the technical talks would end soon, and everyone deserved a chance to say goodbye.

 

She tuned back in the discussion just in time to catch the end of the Ark's reply to Clarke's question.

 

''...ica, most likely. India if we are slow in our preparations. But either way, it won't be an easy landing. The Ark was not designed for this – and like you said, we won't be able to aim for a favorable ground. At least, thanks to you, we know we will be able to breath down there, and might even seek help from other survivors. They can't all be on the East Coast.''

 

Somehow, Lexa had a feeling this Kane was trying to ease the burden on the young people's shoulders. To insist that they had done the best they could without actually saying so. She was irritated by his convoluted ways of doing it. As a leader, one should be able to state clearly whether or not they were pleased by one of their subject's work, rather than let him or her try to decipher your meaning.

 

''Radios won't reach all the way across the globe, right?'' She heard the blonde ask in a resigned voice.

 

She saw Raven shook her head. The Latina had probably figured it out before the blonde, since this was her expertise.

 

No reply came from the radio. Everyone already knew the answer to Clarke's question. The young woman buried her head in her hands, elbows supporting her in front of the radio.

 

''This is goodbye, then.'' She stated with a sniffle. ''Can… Can you bring my mother, and Monty's parents, and Raven's friends, and…'' She paused. ''Well, anyone who has something to say to us or one of the other delinquents, I guess?'' She finished softly, glancing at her two sky people companions to see if they wanted to ask for anyone else.

 

It was the other man – Sinclair – who answered. ''Your mother was pretty banged up, but she is waking. Do you mind if I talk to Raven while she recovers a little?''

 

The blonde shook her head as she stood up. ''Of course not. I'll step out. Raven can find me when it is my turn.''

 

Lexa followed Clarke as she gently directed a still stunned Monty out of the room, and closed the door. The two young people sat on the floor next to the door.

 

She spoke up. '' _Klark_. I already sent for Murphy, but do you think we should warn Octavia as well?'' She was unsure of whether or not the sky girl had anyone to talk to on the Ark. Probably not, given the story Clarke had told her.

 

But she knew how much she had regretted never having proper goodbyes with Costia. She had no reason to refuse others the opportunity when it was in her power to offer it and cost her nothing.

 

The blonde smiled up at her, though the expression was pained. ''Yes, please. I don't know if she will come, but she should be told.'' She paused, her gaze seemed a bit warmer as she added. '' _Mochof, Leksa_.''

 

She nodded slightly in reply, and decided to use this opportunity to leave the blonde and her companions. This was a private time, now. She should not intrude.

 

''Lexa?'' She turned back when she heard Clarke's voice. ''I am sorry, but… can we deal with Lincoln and Octavia later? I understand if it's too much to ask…''

 

''Lincoln is my problem, just as Octavia and Bellamy's fates are yours to decide. In light of the relationship between my scout and your friend, we might have to compromise in our decisions, but I will not ignore his transgressions. I cannot have more warriors betray me without consequences. I will interrogate him on his motives – all of them – and confer with you once I reach a decision. You do not have to be here for the whole process.'' She chided gently.

 

She was the Commander, and she was about to go to war. No matter how much she shared Clarke's ideals, the blonde lacked the experience to recognize the situations where such ideals became a liability. The situation with the Ark meant that there could only be two fates for the Sky people in her lands: integration or banishment. Clarke and Murphy – and even Raven, to a lesser extent – were well on their way to be integrated. Octavia and Monty, she needed to see and hear more about. Bellamy… well she hoped Clarke would get over her reluctance to condemn him soon. The boy deserved death for his actions, or at least a life-long banishment in the Dead Lands. And the Ark would no longer be here to do so in her stead.

 

The blonde hung her head. ''You are right. Sorry. And thank you, again. For… well everything really.''

 

Clarke seemed almost uncomfortable as she said that, so Lexa just nodded as she walked away.

 

Though their stories were vastly different, she had noticed a few common points. They had both been raised mostly away for others of their age group, and with heavy expectations to become leaders. She doubted the blonde was much more used than her to thanking other people or apologizing to them. As leaders, you made decisions and took actions. You were the one to whom others offered apologies or gratitude. Your own words could hold a lot of power, and giving thanks or an apology to someone could mean that you gave him power over you, by recognizing a debt. It had to be done sparsely.

 

She was unsure how much Clarke herself was aware of this. It was typically the sort of thing that only experience – or at least someone with personal experience – could teach you. For all her intellectual knowledge and her sound reasonings, Clarke was still very inexperienced. She also had a feeling that the blonde did not enjoy her role as a leader, and would prefer to dedicate herself to healing and teaching – she had certainly earned the _Natblidas_ affection and trust. She wondered how much this had weighed in her initial decision to flee her former companions rather than confront Bellamy. Consciously or not.

 

The guard she sent to fetch Murphy came back alone as she reached the end of the corridor. She stopped and looked at him, waiting for his explanation. He saluted her before speaking.

 

'' _Murfi_ claimed that he had no one to talk to, and did not believe this matter warranted him interrupting the Nightbloods lesson, unless you decided otherwise.''

 

She was mildly surprised by this – though this certainly explained the boy's sarcastic attitude. Once she pushed pass the initial surprise and dismissed the warrior, she was mostly pleased. Murphy was still overly sarcastic – a trait most sky people seemed to share, to both her amusement and annoyance – but had quickly lost the insolent edge of his behavior. Oh, he was toeing the line quite often, but he had learned to show appropriate respect in front of others when the situation warranted it.

 

She hoped he would accept what she would propose for him.

 

Meanwhile, she had reached the room where Anya usually resided when in Polis. She knew she had a lot to discuss with her former mentor. Last time, she had not had much time for a discussion, and was still unsure of where she stood with Clarke. She had not missed the silent exchange between the two blondes earlier, and hoped their relationship would grow in some sort of friendship. It was a shame Anya had not had a chance to witness Clarke's more calm and protective behavior.

 

She knocked on Anya's door to signal her presence, and entered. As expected, her general was sitting at the table while Tris kept an eye on the two prisoners. She felt a sliver of guilt for leaving those two in Anya's hands with so few instructions when she followed Clarke.

 

She gestured to one warrior to step up behind her after greeting Anya. She decided to address Octavia first. She was unsure how long this radio would last in the current situation of the Ark.

 

'' _Okteivia kom Skaikru_. Your home in the sky is crumbling. If you have anyone you wish to say goodbye to, my warrior will escort you to the radio. You are not to leave the Tower until I have made a decision about you.''

 

There was no point in mincing her words. If she judged by the girl's clothes and general deportment, she hoped to become a warrior. Warriors should always be aware of death, and never afraid to acknowledge it.

 

The girl seemed startled when she was addressed directly by the Commander – it seemed Lincoln or Anya had taught her some things about their society – and floundered for a few seconds before replying.

 

''I… Err… I thank you for the offer, _Heda_ , but there is no one in the Ark with whom I would share goodbyes.'' She continued meekly. ''I would like a chance to see my brother, though, if he is here.''

 

She stared at Octavia. ''Your brother has attempted to kill at least three people. Though none of them were part of my own people, you will understand my distrust of him. However, part of my reasons to be here is to relieve my general of her guarding duties – Lincoln will await his judgement in a cell while I attend to other matters. Though I have no reasons to put you in a cell, I do not trust you to roam free either. You may either go with your lover, or in a guarded guest room until a decision has been made.''

 

The brunette shrugged. ''If I have to be locked up either way, I'd rather be with Lincoln and close to my brother. At least I won't be alone.'' She said in a dejected tone.

 

Lexa nodded. With the two sitting close together, she had expected as much. She gave instructions to the warrior to escort them, and insisted that they should not be mistreated – Lincoln might have a rough time later, but now was not it.

 

With the two prisoners out of the way, she closed the door and sat at the table across from Anya. Tris took a position on a chair against the wall, close to her mentor. She had not spent much time with Tris, as she was busy in Polis, but could not help a feeling of kinship with the girl that was mentored by Anya as she herself had once been.

 

''So, what is all this I have heard about you being protected by the Nymph and a _Natblida_ dying? I mean, I saw Clarke's powers last time, but can you truly trust her so close to you?'' Anya immediately asked.

 

She took her time before replying, thinking about why, exactly, she trusted the blonde. At first, she had been mostly intrigued by her, and why the Spirit would so suddenly give her an ally that came with so much problems. Trust was not a word she would have used to describe what she felt for Clarke then. There had been insightful conversations that hinted at a possible friendship, but no real trust. She needed the blonde by her side, because of all the stories spreading. And though she had rejected Titus' proposal to kill off all of Clarke's people, her practical mind had considered it, along with many other options.

 

Ultimately, she had been satisfied that the healer was as eager as her to settle the issues between them and their people. She had accepted several tasks that would help Lexa, in exchange of contacting her people. That was when trust had first seemed possible. Possible. Not actually present. The young woman was still tight-lipped about her personal history, then. And Lexa was still wary. That was why she had not even considered showing her the passage between their rooms and the Nightbloods' quarters.

 

But then Clarke had stumbled on her private time with Aden and Strina – a rare time when Lexa and the Commander could be in harmony. She had been unsure at first, wondering if she should move the healer to another room. The blonde had not noticed her hesitation, instead focusing her attention on the children.

 

Not her novitiates. But the children in them that most people forgot about once they stepped inside the Tower for the first time at two or three years of age. She had read an old story to them, putting her heart in the task, much as she had seen her do before with healing.

 

That was when she had started to trust Clarke, she realized. Because she knew how much she valued life in general, and because she had immediately and naturally included her _Natblidas_ in her own circle. Even more so than she had Raven and Murphy.

 

''She saved Aden when those warriors betrayed me. Would have saved Strina as well, if she could have reached her in time. She comes from a culture that is… vastly different, but also similar in some ways. She values the lives of all people, as _Heda_ protects all. I can understand why the Spirit chose her. You know the Flame has many projects. With Clarke, some of these may happen sooner than I or the previous _Hedas_ could have ever dreamed of.'' She eventually replied.

 

She knew there was no point in saying more. Anya was not one to be swayed by words alone. She would judge Clarke through her actions.

 

''There seems to be a lot of… unusual troop movements near _Tondisi_ and the Mountain.'' Her general observed.

 

She nodded. ''Some of Clarke's former companions escaped the Mountain and brought us important information. We have been plotting the _Maunon's_ demise since then.'' She stated with a cautious smile.

 

She was confident their plan was sound, but refused to show premature smugness. Besides, the fall of the Mountain was only the beginning of the troubles. She would need Clarke's mystical presence in the aftermath.

 

Anya's eyebrows rose slightly. ''You intend to bring down the Mountain before winter truly arrives?''

 

She shrugged. ''Or when spring melts the snow. I am waiting for the Mountain to make the first move – all the preparations are done.'' She felt more somber thoughts enter her mind and frowned. ''This victory will not be without sacrifice.''

 

''War rarely ends without innocents sharing in the bloodshed.'' Anya acknowledged gently, unconsciously slipping back into a stance she had often assumed when Lexa was her second, leaning towards her.

 

There was silence for a few minutes, until Anya voiced her conclusions. ''You are not calling on the clans to wage war. You are only using your own warriors, and some of the Trikru.''

 

''I will send orders for reinforcements once the Mountain attacks.''

 

Anya did not question how she was so certain that their mostly hidden enemy would strike soon. She focused on the backslash they both knew would happen.

 

''But you do not expect to need them. Many clans will not be happy. The fight against the Mountain was one of the reasons the Coalition came to be. They will feel slighted in their right to demand a blood debt.'' She warned.

 

Needlessly. Lexa was well aware of these problems. She had not broached this particular subject with Clarke yet. The blonde was used to a society where a leader could be changed relatively easily, but were the people was unique. Her own situation as leader of the Coalition was vastly different. She had to manage the sensibilities and prides of twelve leaders, and convince them that doing what she wanted them to do was the right thing. Yes, Clarke had attended a few meetings with ambassadors and picked up on alliances – but she had no idea how to integrate those in the whole equation.

 

So, she had decided to take one matters at a time. Now that the plan and preparations were over, she would introduce the healer to the finer subtleties of politics. She hoped that Clarke would elect to remain in Polis – especially now that the Ark would land far away – and act as a teacher, healer and adviser for her and her _Natblidas_.

 

''The plan requires stealth. It is impossible to be stealthy with a huge army made up of warriors from clans that were still at war four years ago.'' She answered with a sigh.

 

''Is there no other way?''

 

''It is the way that will enable us to win with the minimum of losses, if all goes well. We could wait for all the _Maunons_ to leave their home, but that would cost _Trikru_ a lot, and we would be faced with their heavy weapons in open ground. We hope to strike when they do not expect it, and seize control of their most dangerous weapons before they can use them in battle. We also hope they will exhaust their missiles on the villages we have mostly evacuated.'' She briefly explained.

 

Now that Anya had completed her mission of finding the traitorous scout, she could send her with Indra to oversee the first actions the generals would have to lead while she traveled from Polis with Clarke, Raven and Monty.

 

''You will be in charge of one of the teams. Indra can lead the attack in the tunnels. You will accompany the sky girl, Raven, on her mission. We can discuss the details of the plan later.'' She added with a glance in Tris' direction.

 

She liked the girl, but she was not about to explain such a sensitive plan to a still training warrior. Anya accepted her words with a nod and a furrowed brow, probably wondering what the sky girl's role was – and whether she could be trusted to accomplish it.

 

She spent a while longer with her old mentor discussing Lincoln, then moved on to more personal subjects when Tris decided to go find herself something to eat in the cantina. She confessed how hard Strina's death had been on her, and how Clarke's support had helped both her and the Nightbloods. She talked of her own shaken trust in her warriors after the unexpected betrayal. Yes, she had expected some sort of retaliation after executing the _Azgeda_ ambassador, but not like this. Not from people who had sworn to protect her.

 

She did not, however, share her intentions to implement a spying network. After studying the idea – she had read the book Clarke had given her, _the Art of War_ , and had agreed on the merits of the advices it gave – she had decided that this network would be too long to truly build to waste it solely on _Azgeda_. Yes, it was currently the main threat to the Coalition, but the Queen was the real problem – she hoped Roan would be more reasonable. By the time her spies were in place, Nia might have already died. For all she knew, the Shadow Valley, or even the _Trikru_ could become the new threat to the stability of the Coalition in the future.

 

But she knew even Anya expected some partiality on her part towards _Trikru_. Her mentor would never understand why she intended to spy on her own original clan as she would on _Azgeda_. _Heda's_ absolute neutrality was not achieved yet.

 

It was actually one of the advantages of Clarke's insight. The young woman was often blinded when it came to her own people – like when she had wanted to rush against the Mountain, or hesitated to judge Bellamy – but she was not inclined to favor either of the clans. The only prejudice she had was against _Azgeda_ , because of their previous ambassador and Strina's death. But that had not prevented her from healing any man, woman or child from _Azgeda_ that had come to her, begging for the powers of the Nymph to cure an old illness or wound.

 

Even Titus had been raised in a clan – the Desert clan – and old, ingrained prejudice sometimes colored his advices. Thankfully, his years of experience had washed away most of it, but some of the most insidious ones remained. Just like she knew she tended to distrust _Azgeda_ and _Del_ _f_ _i_ , because they were old enemies of the _Trikru_.


	19. Sorting out the apples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Eventually, Lexa left Anya's rooms. The sun had already set, and she decided to check on the sky people. She inquired the guards she had assigned to Raven, Monty and Murphy's rooms. The mechanic had put the radio in a corner of the room, and was now working on the other devices they had brought up – smaller, portable radios and the ultrasound machine. Monty had gone to his room after his talk with his parents, and had not come out since. Murphy had briefly visited Raven after his lesson with the Nightbloods ended, and was likely downstairs to eat in the cantina.

 

Clarke, however, had left the Tower after the radio was turned off, to go to the city healers. Lexa knew the blonde usually went there in the morning, and often spent about an hour healing various people – rarely more as she still insisted that whatever could be managed by conventional medicine ought to be treated that way. She had never, to Lexa's knowledge, gone in the afternoons, and even less remained outside after dark. Remembering the attack that had cost Strina's life, she sent two warriors she trusted to watch over Clarke.

 

She understood the healer's desire – perhaps even need – to simply do something. She had similarly thrown herself in her duties when Costia had been captured. She would not interrupt her, but she would ensure the young woman did not harm herself by pushing past her limits or be taken advantage of in a moment of weakness.

 

She knew that Clarke's abilities would protect her from most physical attacks, but she had now had enough time to reflect on the limits of her Nymph. She had confessed herself of how she had suffered from the solitude of her year-long imprisonment, and she had also seen the young woman groan or moan in pain when she was injured. There were very few ways that could actually kill someone instantly – even a sword to the heart took a few seconds, so she was certain the blonde could actually survive such a blow – but she was not immune to pain.

 

Moreover, she could guess from the story of Clarke's life on the Ark, and of her father's death, of a few ways that one might be able to kill the healer. None could be used easily in an assassination attempt, but there might always be another way she had overlooked.

 

Later that evening, she changed in her night clothes and grabbed a candle to go see the Nightbloods. She was surprised to see Clarke enter the passage from her own hidden door as she reached the narrow stairs.

 

She paused, examining her in the candle light.

 

Her features were drawn, her face tired. She could see no tear tracks, but her eyes were slightly puffy, which meant she had been crying a few minutes ago, but had wiped her cheeks before going to see the Nightbloods. Her whole body seemed to be vibrating with the energy it took her to keep her emotions at bay.

 

''The children will understand if you wish to be alone tonight.'' She said softly.

 

She wasn't sure what words would be appropriate to acknowledge the blonde's grief. Her own people would grasp the arm of the family in support, or silently deposit a basket on the threshold to spare the mourning family the task of foraging for food or having to see others in markets before they were ready. Mourning was something that was dealt with mostly in isolation or with very close family and friends, at least the first few days.

 

Clarke came from a different culture, though. And there was also the uncertainty of her mother and other acquaintances or friends. Was it even appropriate to define what she was going through as mourning, when all the people she was crying for were still alive at the moment, and might perhaps thrive in a foreign land?

 

The healer shook her head slowly. ''No. I… It's my problem. Not theirs. It shouldn't affect their lives. They have enough to worry about already.''

 

Lexa nodded, though she doubted the children would fail to see beyond Clarke's facade. They had spent years perfecting their own official masks and watching ambassadors or chief clans hide their motives. Just the fact that Clarke was less open than usual was a dead give-away. They would understand that they should not pressure her, though.

 

She was proven right by the unusually quiet atmosphere of the evening. The Nightbloods were never boisterous, but these times were one of the rare moments when they could act as children, and were therefore often punctuated with childish begging for one more chapter, or for Lexa's tale of how she dealt with a particular issue. This night, though, they did not press the blonde for more mimics as she kept reading the story to them, or remark when her voice faltered. Rawon and Niom, the youngest, hugged Clarke a bit longer than usual. Aden held Lexa back while Clarke climbed the hidden stairs, asking her if their healer would be okay. She smiled sadly.

 

''She will be. Eventually. Just like all of us.'' She replied with a slight brush of her hand against his cheeks.

 

Since Strina's death, she was finding it a bit harder to show affection to her novitiates, and she knew it had hurt some of them. She had apologized a few nights ago, and was since trying to recover the easy gestures she had bestowed naturally before. It still felt forced, though. So she had been extremely grateful for Clarke's presence, as the young woman had dealt with her grief by cuddling with the children and welcoming them into her own rooms after their nightmares. Lexa herself had suffered from memories of the girl's death, or even old dreams of the torture she knew Costia had suffered. She had focused more on Aden, who had come to her confessing how guilty he felt that he had not been able to save his fellow _natblida_. That Clarke had lost time saving him and therefore not been able to save Strina. They had worked through their feeling of loss and failure together, and she had been glad that Clarke had been there and ensured the others were not neglected as a result.

 

Before going back to her own room, she hesitated by the door to Clarke's. She wanted to offer support to her, but was unsure of whether it would be welcome. Clarke had always been more physical than Lexa herself had been taught in her interactions – hugging her friends, kissing the Nightbloods' hair or cheeks, pressing a shoulder as she passed behind Murphy or Monty to show her approval and affection.

 

But she had never done so with Lexa herself. In fact, it almost felt like the blonde was being careful not to touch her casually as she did with most people. She was not sure what to make of it. Clarke had not, to her knowledge, interacted with many adult grounders – as she called Lexa's people – apart from healing. So it might simply be that she was afraid she would offend, as she had no doubt noticed that those frequent touches were not common for her people.

 

And Strina had been a common loss, though it had hit Lexa more – she had known and taught the girl since she was two years old. This new loss was Clarke's, and not Lexa's. In fact, she was ashamed to admit that news of the Ark landing so far away had been a relief for the Commander. It was one less thing to worry about in the wake of the Mountain's aftermath.

 

How legitimate was she to comfort Clarke when such thoughts had entered her mind?

 

With a sigh, she returned to her own room without knocking on the blonde's door.

 

Over the next few days, Lexa kept an eye on the Sky people.

 

Murphy seemed mostly unaffected. His only noticeable change of routine was a less acerbic attitude when in company of Clarke or Raven. Monty was apparently keeping to his room. She hoped the boy would still be able to accomplish his part if the Mountain attacked – it was possible for Raven to replace him, but the logistics of that would be complicated.

 

Clarke and Raven seemed to shift their focus to their duties, in between long talks in Raven's room. The blonde had begged Lexa to excuse her from library duty in the afternoons, which she now spent helping Raven or healing – both with her powers and with more conventional methods. She had claimed that she found it easier not to let her mind wander when she was doing a task that required concentration, and reading tedious books was not it. The brunette had asked for her authorization to fix more devices, and the Commander had allowed her to work on more portable radios and medical machines. As long as she took care to rest regularly – she could not have both Monty and Raven unable to help against the _Maunon_.

 

She also spent time interrogating Lincoln with Anya and Tris. It soon appeared clear that the scout had truly fallen for Octavia and approached her despite Anya's and Indra's orders to only observe. He had been captured by the sky people, and escaped with the help of the girl. He also admitted to stabbing a boy that had been searching for Octavia with others – Finn, from what Lexa had previously heard from Raven. He had been dizzy from a blow to the head, and reacted instinctively when he saw a stranger bent over him in his home.

 

Still, it was murder. She would usually banish him or have him killed without further considerations – abandoning his post, betraying his general by warning Octavia of the attack and running away with her, and murder of someone he was only supposed to only watch at that point. But with Bellamy's own fate soon to be sealed – she would not settle for less than a banishment, even if the decision was technically Clarke's – it meant Lincoln's fate was tied to Octavia's. She had no valid reason to banish the girl, and she did not want her to go on a rampage because she executed her beloved. Judging from her behavior in the throne room, she was quicker to act than to think of repercussions.

 

Hopefully, the girl would agree to leave with her lover. But she had apparently learned of the other delinquents fate – from her brother, most likely – and was now asking to help free them.

 

Clarke had never said that this girl had a specific skill that could be useful – like Raven or Monty. She would have to ask her.

 

The healer, when she was not working or talking with Raven, looked… hollow. Lexa knew the Ark and her duty to it had been part of what kept the blonde going for the last several weeks. She had literally been almost killed for it. To have it gone when she had thought that everything was about to come together had obviously been a shock.

 

Unfortunately, the only remedy Lexa knew for this was time, and they may not have much of that. The fates of Lincoln, Octavia and Bellamy could wait, but once the Mountain attacked they would need to act quickly and soundly. At this point she was unsure how clear Clarke's mind would be, and she was supposed to lead one of the teams.

 

One night, almost a week after the Exodus crash, she woke up in the middle of the night. This was not a rare occurrence for her, as she had always been a fairly light sleeper. She would usually just roll over and go back to sleep, after assessing her surroundings to ensure it was not a threat that had woken her. This time, though, she rose from her bed and, grabbing a candle, made her way to Clarke's hidden door. She listened and heard a constant rustling of furs.

 

Clarke was either sleeping very fitfully, or not sleeping at all. She steeled herself and knocked softly on the door. She had not talked much with the other young woman lately, and certainly not one-on-one. But there was only so long she could hold off some decisions, and she had promised to involve the blonde in those regarding Clarke's… companions? Could she still think of them as a people when they were less than a hundred?

 

She heard a muffled ''Lexa?'' and took it as permission to slip into the room.

 

The young woman was sitting up in her bed and rubbing her eyes.

 

''I hope I did not wake you.'' Lexa said.

 

The blonde shook her head. ''Not really.'' She stayed silent for a minute before adding weakly. ''I haven't been sleeping that well lately.''

 

''I supposed as much. You look more tired every day.'' She sat on the edge of the bed, turned towards Clarke.

 

The blonde pulled her legs to her chest and encircled them in her arms. ''I feel like I failed my mother. And my father. And now I am terrified of failing the others from the dropship. What if the Mountain men decided to not wait for them to recover between bone marrow extractions, and they are already dead? What if the attack goes wrong, or…''

 

Sensing that the young woman was panicking and ranting, Lexa put a hand over her joined ones. They both froze at the contact. Clarke seemed more surprised than offended, so Lexa did not remove her hand before speaking.

 

'' _Klark_. The plan we came up with together is sound. And even if it fails and we have to retreat, we will have the Coalition's army already gathering to fight back. As for your friends…''

 

She paused. She did not want to give her false hope. She personally believed that the _Maunon_ would have already made a move by now if they had elected to sacrifice Clarke's former companions, but she could not be certain. And even if she was right, it did not follow that the Sky children would be in good shape, or that she could welcome in Polis as she had done with Raven, Monty, Murphy and Clarke. Those four had never meant to harm her people, and had even helped since their introduction.

 

Those in the Mountain were either prisoners of the _Maunon_ – that, she could work with eventually, depending on what crimes they had committed previously – or actively helping them. If the latter, she would not welcome them. The fall of the Mountain would already destabilize her Coalition, she could not and would not waste whatever advantages she had bantering for the delinquents.

 

And it was unfair not to clearly say as much to Clarke.

 

''You have done everything you could for your friends. They are still human beings responsible for their actions.'' She stated gently. ''But you must know that, just as for our initial plans for the Ark, there is only so much my people can shoulder for yours.''

 

The blonde sighed. ''This is not just about Bellamy, is it?''

 

Lexa was surprised Clarke had realized what she was hinting at so quickly and silently studied her. She did not want this to cause a rift between them.

 

The healer smiled sadly. ''I get it. I really do. I have spent a lot of time with your people lately, healing them or sewing them up after training. I have gotten good enough at _Trigedasleng_ and _Boudal_ _a_ _g_ to carry out small conversations.'' She explained with a hint of pride in her voice as she evoked two of the most talked languages in Polis.

 

''Your people suffered a lot at the hands of the Mountain. You told me that, several times, but I had not really realized how much. At least half of the people I talked to knew someone that had been taken – not always someone they were close to, but someone they knew. It's… The Ark's population wasn't so big, but it was all I knew. It sounds like there have been at least that many people taken – probably more.''

 

''So… yeah. If the others helped the Mountain men become immune to the radiations, I know there is no way the people in Polis will accept them. When we first started to plan, I hoped they would come to live in Polis until the Ark came down, and perhaps even after that for some of them. But now… I can't ask that of you.''

 

The blonde rose her head to meet her eyes. She could see the tears in them as she pleaded in a whisper. ''Just… Please, don't kill them for it? They never had a choice in coming down, or being taken by the Mountain. I get that they can't be welcomed, but can they at least be spared?''

 

Lexa was stunned. She had expected an argument, perhaps ending with a threat from Clarke to leave Polis after the battle. Never would she have imagined that the young woman had already figured out part of the complicated situation, and accepted it.

 

''I will do what I can to spare them.'' She promised. ''If they are involved in the fight, there is not much I will be able to do, but it is unlikely they will be. I will banish them from the lands of the Coalition, but I can ensure they know where they might go and provide them with the supplies we had set aside for the Exodus people.''

 

Her people did not need those supplies, and she did not wish to kill children that had been forced in a situation well beyond their comprehension. If they were cautious, those supplies could be enough to sustain them until they crossed the Waste Lands. Usually, a banishment was almost a death sentence, because your only hope was to cross those deadly lands without any resources. People either died trying, or took the chance to remain on the Coalition's lands as an outlaw and be killed on sight. With supplies, though… There were tales of rich lands beyond, and given the map of the world Clarke had once drawn, it was likely. The only question was how far those were.

 

The blonde visibly relaxed, the skin beneath Lexa's hand slackening a bit as her hold around her legs loosened. ''Thank you. But… don't say any of that to Raven or Monty. Not yet. I don't think they would understand.''

 

Lexa agreed, as they needed the unique skills of at least one of the two against the Mountain. After that, she did not really care what happened for them. She would welcome them if they wished to stay – Raven's skills in particular could be interesting, though the Commander remained wary of most of the devices from the old world. But if they decided to accompany their old companions, she would not stop them. She was just unsure of what her Nymph would do if all her friends left Polis.

 

''If you are not too tired to discuss it now, there are others we need to talk about.'' She reminded the blonde.

 

''I think I will actually sleep better if things are resolved.'' The healer admitted. ''Work helps during the day, but at night my mind can't stop thinking.''

 

Lexa nodded. ''I know what you mean.'' She commiserated.

 

Clarke sighed and settled a bit more against the head of the bed to support her upper body. ''Bellamy?''

 

''The Ark will not be able to judge him as we had intended. The decision of his fate is yours and Raven's, as you were his intended victims.'' She paused. ''I believe Raven has made her own opinion on the matter clear enough.''

 

The blonde grimaced. ''I… This is not me. I am not a judge. But…''

 

''You know his actions cannot be forgiven.'' Lexa stated.

 

It was clear that the young woman had already reached the conclusion in her mind. But she was having a hard time accepting and voicing it. Her shoulders dropped at Lexa's prompting.

 

''I know. I still don't want to condone death penalty, though. Can he be banished? These are your lands, but I am the one supposed to pass the sentence. Does it even work?''

 

Lexa quirked up the corner of her lips. ''The crime was committed against you, and you are my guest. People will not question the details of how we judged him – he is not from any clan, and has no friend amongst my people. I suggest we keep him in a cell until we have beaten the Mountain. I would hate for him to run to them and warn them of our attack out of spite.'' She proposed and Clarke nodded. ''We also need to discuss Octavia.''

 

The blonde smiled uneasily at her. ''I am sorry for not helping you sort that situation. I had promised you I would when Anya sent word she was coming with them.'' She apologized.

 

''I would not be a good leader if I did not adapt my plans to fit unforeseen circumstances. I am confident that Lincoln's betrayal is not part of any scheme from _Azgeda_ or another clan. But just abandoning his duty is ground enough for a banishment from _Trikru_.''

 

She paused, thinking back on the man's notebook and Anya's explanations of how Lincoln had spent the last few years trying to draw an accurate map of the Reapers tunnels.

 

''However, he has knowledge that could be useful against the Mountain and is still loyal to the Coalition, so I am hesitant. I believe I will have to take up the matter with Indra – she is the chief of his village. I will leave the decision of whether he may try to earn back his place by guiding her team through the tunnels up to her.''

 

Clarke looked confused. ''I thought Lincoln was under Anya's orders, not Indra's.'' She remarked.

 

''Indra is a village chief. Her duty is to _Tondisi_ first, even if she is a general. Anya is a general that is not tied to a village in particular. Though she is _Trikru_ , she chose to become part of _Heda's_ personal army after I ascended – she must be loyal to the Flame before her clan, though I hope she never has to choose. I sent her as reinforcement when you and your companions first arrived.'' She explained. ''Lincoln was lent to her by Indra, along with other scouts, as they know the area better than warriors raised in another part of the Coalition. It is also why she could be sent to find him and Octavia.''

 

''Okay, I think I get it.'' The blonde nodded. ''What about Octavia? I don't think she will want to leave Lincoln either way – she seems happy with him.''

 

''That is what I was hoping to discuss with you. Do you think she will be reasonable if Lincoln is banished? Or disciplined enough if Indra decides to forgive him? I will make it clear to her that accepting Lincoln back in her village will most likely mean welcoming Octavia. But I will not ask that of her if the girl cannot be trusted.'' She cautioned.

 

''Lincoln knows the cost of his actions, right? So I guess Octavia also knows that it is either banishment or death. I think she will be glad her lover is not executed. She is not big on authority, given her past, but she seems to have changed a lot under Lincoln's tutelage. I visited her yesterday, she confessed Lincoln and her had been trying to reach _Floudonkru_ , and she hoped to train as a warrior. Out of all the delinquents, she is probably the one most eager to blend in with your people.''

 

She paused and shrugged. ''Honestly, for all her stubbornness, she is not unreasonable. If we explain things to her and plainly state her options, I think she will make her choice and stand by it.''

 

Lexa breathed out a small sigh. ''That is a relief. After her attitude in the throne room, I was afraid she would cause problems when I announced my decision about Lincoln. They will come with us when Indra sends word that the battle has begun, and my general will make her decision then. If she refuses Lincoln, they will journey on to the Waste Lands.''

 

''I know it is selfish of me, but I hope they will remain in _Tondisi_.'' Clarke confided. ''Though with me condemning her brother to exile, I am not sure how friendly she will be.''

 

Lexa tightened her hand around the blonde's to show her support as she had no idea what words to say. She was not really experienced with failing friendships. Growing up, she had had her fellow _natblidas_ , and they all knew their eventual fate. Then, she had had sworn warriors with whom she felt a sense of closeness – like Gustus – and Costia. In the life of _Hedas_ , friendships were rare and usually ended with one or the other's life.

 

''There is one last matter I wished to discuss with you.'' She said after a while.

 

''Eh?'' The blonde frowned, and Lexa could see her mentally reviewing her companions in an attempt to find the issue she had overlooked.

 

''Do not worry.'' She reassured her. ''It is something I have been considering for a while, and I wanted to ask for your opinion.''

 

Clarke looked curiously at her. ''I am listening.''

 

''It is about Titus' apprentice. He has not been able to find one that suited him. I have a few options in mind…'' She started, and went on to explain her thoughts on the matter.

 

The healer was quite surprised by her conclusions, and made a few remarks, but eventually agreed with her plan.

 

The following day, Lexa spent her morning sitting on her throne to listen as people from Polis and other places came to her with their pleas. It was something that she did once a week, unless other matters required her attention. She wished _Heda_ could dedicate more time to her people, instead of tedious meetings with ambassadors who were all trying to gain some minor advantage. But the Coalition was too large for her to be able to directly attend the needs of people beyond the walls of Polis. Twice, she had traveled to the main villages of all twelve clans.

 

After the first journey, she had spent months arguing with Gustus, Titus and Anya to repeat the experience despite the several assassination attempts that had occurred. She had refused to abandon the practice. _Heda_ existed for the people. So _Heda_ would greet and meet the people.

 

Clarke stood by her right side this morning, as she had a couple of times before. She had made a habit of asking her Nymph to be present to meetings with ambassadors or other officials as irregularly as she could. It ensured that people never knew whether the mystical healer would be present or not, and that no one would be able to figure out exactly what kind of subject she might ask her for advice on.

 

Also, it had been clear that Clarke had yet to build the proper endurance and countenance for long, daily meetings. She fatigued much more quickly than Lexa, and could snap at officials when tired. It had taken her a while to realize how much more complex the matters discussed were, compared to the Ark.

 

In a way, Lexa envied the old leaders of the Ark. In a closed world where even the air was counted as a supply, it must have been much easier to make an educated decision than on the ground, where weather and nature could prove generous or devastating without any kind of warning. One clan could be thriving while another starved, and she had the difficult position of convincing them to share even when they gained nothing from it.

 

Once the last caller of the day left, Lexa sent a warrior to fetch John Murphy. Titus was busy with the _Natblidas_ , so only Clarke and Gustus were here with her. She trusted both with what she intended to do – though she knew Gustus would probably be uneasy. Her guard had grown to trust Clarke since their arrival in Polis, so she hoped he would give the same chance to the sky boy.

 

Murphy entered the room, walking with the appearance of confidence but Lexa could see his eyes darting between her and the other two. He was nervous, and wondering why he was summoned.

 

She took charge, speaking clearly once the boy had bowed respectfully to her – he truly was learning to at least show proper deference.

 

'' _Jon Murfi kom Skaikru_. You have lately helped in lessons with the Nightbloods, and I am pleased by the results of these lessons.''

 

It was true. Sure, the games he produced for the lessons were based on simple rules, and therefore insufficient when compared to the actual complexity of the real world. But it had provided her novitiates with a training area of a sort for military strategy and trade negotiation. It was different from merely presenting them with a situation and asking what they would do based on the lectures they had recently had. In those games, they had to react to others' actions, build up on sometimes unexpected turn of events.

 

For Aden, who was older and much more advanced in his studies, the games were somewhat lacking. But it was a nice exercise for the younger natblidas, and she hoped Murphy would come up with more refined games in time.

 

The boy nodded at her praise, still looking uncertain, and remained quiet.

 

''I have a proposition for you, that I hope you will accept. However, it is not something you should enter in lightly. If you agree, I will expect you to swear an oath of absolute loyalty, and nothing but death may free you from that oath. There will be no consequences if you refuse, and you may take some time to decide. If you agree, you must be committed to the task.'' She explained.

 

Now, the boy was obviously nervous. She saw him rub his palms against the fabric of his pants and glance at Clarke. Good. He understood how serious this proposal was.

 

''I want you to become Titus' apprentice and, eventually, succeed him as Flame keeper.'' She stated, looking him directly in the eyes as she did and ignoring Gustus shifting his weight in surprise.

 

The boy was stunned. She waited a few seconds to let him absorb the news.

 

He rose a hand – a gesture the _skaikru_ used to request the authorization to speak. She encouraged him with a sharp nod.

 

''I am uhh… honored, Commander. But, to be honest, I am not entirely sure what a Flame keeper is supposed to do, aside from teaching lessons to your novitiates.''

 

She had expected his confusion. She was pleased that he had not refused outright.

 

''A _Fleimkeepa_ is loyal to the Flame – the Spirit of all _Hedas_. His role is to ensure continuity, that when _Heda_ passes on, the Spirit finds the next one. While _Heda_ lives, he helps raise the new generation of novitiates and advises _Heda_.''

 

She paused to check that the boy had understood all she had just explained. She had made sure he knew the basics about _Heda_ , the Flame and _Natblidas_ before she allowed him to give his first lesson. But she had no idea whether or not he had really assimilated the information. She knew Clarke still struggled with the idea of the Spirit – she was still reluctant to associate her abilities with anything 'religious' as she stated.

 

In fact, the blonde had warned that the main problem would most likely the boy's own beliefs. The old world had many various religions, and some had been preserved on the Ark. Clarke had no idea if her companion believed in anything.

 

Lexa continued. ''There are several reasons why I hope you will take on this role. The first one is, of course, that you have already proved capable of teaching the novitiates. Another one is the fact that you are not from any clan. _Hedas_ and _Fleimkeepas_ must be neutral. Your very origins will help you in that aspect.''

 

''Finally, and though you have learned to me more respectful, you have a sarcastic – sometimes even insolent – view of the world. Such a mindset is useful in an advisor.''

 

That Clarke's own childhood had been easier than Murphy was clear. Despite the rough time she had lived through since her father's death, she held onto ideals that were compatible with the world _Hedas_ hoped to, eventually, build. But she was sometimes clinging to them at inappropriate moments. Murphy seemed wary of everyone's intentions, which was more similar to what she had been taught growing up and Titus' own approach.

 

Together, Clarke and Murphy would provide herself and her successor with balanced advices. Help him or her achieve the goals without being blind to the current failures of the world.

 

''If you agree, you will remain in Polis and Titus will teach you how to accomplish those duties. I do not expect you to step into this role for some years.'' She added in a reassuring tone as the boy looked a little overwhelmed by the amount of information. ''And of course, you will have to renounce all former attachments to the people from the Ark – including those currently trapped in Mount Weather.''

 

''Well, that part is easy. They all turned their back on me when Bellamy accused me of killing Wells. Clarke was the only one who helped me flee.'' He said with a shrug in the blonde's direction. ''As for the rest… What happens if I accept but it turns out I am not good at it?''

 

''The only things you will need and that cannot be taught is keeping the secrets of the Flame secret, and respect your oath of loyalty. You will show proper deference in public, but in private you may speak your mind to your mentor or myself.'' She replied.

 

She considered sharing another tidbit of information. ''To ensure secrecy, you will need to be taught how to better endure pressure and pain. So that if the occasion somehow arose, you will have a mind clear enough to give away false information. Obviously, this will not be pleasant to learn, but it is the only aspect of your education that you shall have to worry about. And it is more about breathing and meditating than tolerating high levels of pain. You will not be subjected to torture as my general once did.''

 

''Okay…'' The boy drawled. ''If you are not going to cut me, I guess I can live with meditating.''

 

He paused. ''Would I have to shave my hair?''

 

Lexa blinked. That was not a question she had expected.

 

''You will receive your brands once you finish your apprenticeship. They need to be somewhere visible – your face or neck. It is not a tradition for the Flame keeper to shave his head.'' She explained.

 

Many warriors chose to shave because long hair could prove bothersome. Some clans used hairdos to show status while most, like _Trikru_ , used tattoos. Only _Azgeda_ used thin scars. Flame keeper was a unique role, like _Heda_. She had her headpiece, warpaint and tattoos, Titus had a large specific tattoo.

 

Despite his strange question, Murphy seemed to be considering the offer.

 

''Is there any other sort of… obligations or sacrifices I will be expected to make? Like, if I want to have kids, is that allowed? Or sell the board games I am making?'' He inquired.

 

''As long as you remain faithful to your oath and duties, there are no interdiction. You may have a family if that is your wish – the _Fleimkeepa's_ rooms are big enough to house a companion and children – but your duty to the Flame must always come first. You would not be allowed to share the secrets you learn with your partner.'' She cautioned. ''As for those games, you may not use your status to force people to buy them. But I have no objection to you finding craftsmen to keep making them and then sell them. Flame keeper is a full-time job, even as an apprentice.''

 

She had rarely had to convince someone to accept a position, but she had more reasons than she had voiced to want Murphy to take on this role. He was proving to be more open-minded than she had first thought, adapting to her culture even faster than Clarke. He had absolutely no loyalty to any people – not even the sky people – but had respected everything she had asked of him. It seemed that Clarke had been correct in her estimation of the boy: he had never had anyone to be loyal to since the death of his parents, and would likely thrive once given a purpose.

 

And finally, he had been raised in the ways of the old world, as _Heda Becca_ and Clarke, and would understand the ideals _Hedas_ worked for even better than Titus. He could become a Flame keeper that would support the changes that would eventually be implemented for the Conclave and the Coalition. She would only have to ensure he separated Titus' personal ways from the ancestral teachings of Becca.

 

The boy looked to the window as he thought. Just as she was about to remind him that he may take a few days to think about it, he turned his focus to her.

 

''I am in. Not like I had anything better to do.'' He said.

 

She frowned a little at his casual tone, but noticed the serious glint in his eyes and his tense posture. He was not making this choice lightly. It was probably his way of dealing with a decision that determined his life – sarcastic attitude again.

 

''Very well. You will take your oath tomorrow, and begin immediately after. You will also be moved to new quarters once you officially become the Flame keeper's apprentice.''

 

While _Heda's_ rooms were situated on the floor directly below the throne room and above the _Natblidas_ quarters, the apartments of the Fleimkeepa and his apprentice were on the floor below the _Natblidas_. Then came the ambassadors and generals, and then other guests – Raven, Monty and Murphy were the only long-residing people currently on this floor.

 

Historically, there had often been more than one apprentice to the Flame keeper, and perhaps she would encourage Titus to find another one once Murphy was advanced enough. Also, the apartments were big enough to house the main Flame keeper's family. Just like her floor could house a partner and children – as well as the healer's family – though it was extremely rare for _Hedas_ to bond with someone. They rarely lived long enough to start a family.

 

She told the boy what he needed to know about his ceremonial oath and then allowed him to go. She also told him that he was allowed to change his mind before he took his oath, and encouraged him to think more on his decision. Meanwhile, she would inform Titus that she had found him a new apprentice.

 

She was not looking forward to that particular discussion.


	20. Mount Weather - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The battle against the Mountain begins.

Over the next week, Lexa was reassured to see Clarke slowly regain her former energy and smile. She was still sad, but she no longer seemed numbed by her pain. Raven also seemed to recover, and had somehow managed to drag Monty out of his room.

 

Titus had been… difficult, since she informed him of his new apprentice. Ironically, his main displeasure with her choice was that Murphy was not from any clan – which had been one of her motivations. When she had stated as much, her Flame keeper had floundered and brought up the weak argument that the boy knew nothing about their traditions.

 

''Then teach him, Mentor.'' She had snapped before leaving the room he had barged in to argue again.

 

Murphy had taken his oath, and seemed to tolerate his master's sneers well enough. In fact, she suspected him of aggravating the man on purpose. But he was attending to all the tasks and studies assigned to him, and she recalled stories from the previous _Heda_ about Titus being somewhat insolent himself as an apprentice. Of course, this was four _Hedas_ ago, so the story might have been enhanced by multiple retellings.

 

Yet, she had noticed how her old teacher had been intently observing as Murphy directed the games of _Natblidas_ before she named him as apprentice. She was confident Titus would overcome his frustration and become more amiable. Eventually.

 

After all, despite his constantly saying that choosing the sky boy was a bad idea, he had yet to come to her with a real argument against the skills or dedication of his apprentice.

 

The dynamic between Clarke and herself had also shifted. The distance that had grown between them when she was first dealing with the news of the Ark's fate was gone. They again shared many meals, and though the blonde still spent more time than before dedicated to healing, she had resumed her former routine of training with the Nightbloods or attending to Lexa in the mornings.

 

She was slowly building up muscles, and was now capable of holding a bow and firing several arrows without her arms trembling from the strain. It quickly appeared, however, that she was not very accurate when the target was distant of more than a hundred feet. When Lexa commented on that, Clarke had just shrugged and reminded her that she was not a warrior, and had no wish to become one – she was still faithful to her vow not to harm another human, and would only do so in defense.

 

The young woman was also starting to be decent with a dagger.

 

Meaning she no longer cut herself with her own dagger. It had taken ridiculously long for her to understand that doing grand slashing motions with it only opened her guard, and the blonde had first been unable to stop her arm before the blade connected with her own leg. Apparently, the woman had seen many 'movies' about fighting, and had hoped that the knowledge from them would prove as useful as that from the books.

 

Needless to say, it was not. Lexa did not know if people really used to fight like Clarke had tried, but if they did then it was not surprising they had died. But after seeing Octavia train once, she had reached the conclusion that Clarke was simply not natural with a blade. Archery came faster to her. Either that, or the Spirit had given her the power to heal herself because It knew the blonde would never survive her own weapons otherwise. She had given up sword training when the blonde enthusiastically swung the blade and embedded it in her own foot. Lexa was sure she had glimpsed at bone when the wound healed.

 

Moreover, the healer had no real wish to become proficient in combat, relying on her healing abilities to survive in battle.

 

It annoyed Lexa greatly. Yes, Clarke was right that killing her in a fight was nearly impossible – if not wholly so – but death was not the only form defeat could take. Similarly, Raven and Monty had only half-heartedly picked up swords for a couple candle-marks when she suggested they get some training in case they found themselves having to fight during the attack against Mount Weather.

 

It was evident that any sort of physical training had been discouraged in their old home – a fact Clarke had confirmed when Lexa asked her. It certainly explained why the blonde was so knowledgeable in many intellectual matters. Just like Lexa had been trained to excel both in fighting, strategy and politics, the young sky woman had spent her years reading and learning about medicine, society, history and many other subjects that had been lost to Lexa's people.

 

Clarke had called this a partial inheritance. Those who had stayed on the ground had kept only knowledge that had been immediately necessary in the chaos following the death of the old world. And those who had lived in the sky had lost all knowledge of basic skills such as farming, riding, hunting… The blonde had told her about 'Earth skills' lessons, where they had been taught about some of these subjects, but there had been none of the practice truly required to keep a skill alive.

 

The one subject she was most hesitant to talk about with Clarke was the attraction that existed between them. Lexa was now quite convinced that Clarke felt the attraction as much as she did, but had no idea what were her customs on the subject of relationships. Some clans forbid warriors to take a partner until they had officially finished their time as a Seken, or earned their first kill mark. Another was extremely formal in the process of establishing the relationship, as you had to earn the approval of at least two friends of your intended.

 

With Costia, things had been relatively simple. They were both from Trikru, where relations were considered to be no one's concern but your own. She had been craving human comfort after her Conclave, and Costia had been her friend when she served as Anya's second. When they both realized the attraction between them, they smoothly transitioned from friends to lover.

 

It had not been perfect, of course. They had both been relatively young, discovering intimacy together, and weighed by duty. Lexa in particular had had some trouble balancing her new role as Commander and her relationship as Lexa. She was often unsure of what she could share with her lover, and had pushed her away more often than had been truly needed. She knew she had hurt Costia in those first months. Slowly, though, she had learned to share her problems without exposing secrets that had to remain _Heda's_ , and Costia had learned to share her lover with the Commander and the people of the growing Coalition.

 

With Clarke, however, she was unsure of the protocol. She was also unsure of whether she should even wish a relationship with the blonde. She wanted one, but as _Heda_ she could not commit lightly. Costia and her had been growing together as a couple while the Coalition was still coming together. They were still at war, and no one would judge a warrior for enjoying life when he or she could.

 

Now, however, any choice of her would have political repercussions. When she finally brought _Azgeda_ into the Coalition, half of the first ambassadors of the Twelve clans had been females who had tried to seduce her. She had rejected them all, and warned that all negotiations were to take place during official meetings in the throne room, and that no favors of any kind would be offered.

 

Clarke was not bonded to any clan, but she was already a target for clan chiefs that hoped to sap Lexa's power. Also, her people might not take well to the Nymph and _Heda_ becoming lovers. They saw the Nymph as a protector sent by the Spirit for the Flame, especially since she saved Aden in the streets of Polis. In their eyes, she belonged to the Flame and _Heda_. Not to Lexa. Then again, they might also see a relationship as a sign that the Spirit wished for Lexa to remain _Heda_ for longer than the position was usually held.

 

And all that was not even considering any objections the blonde herself might have to the relationship. She could simply be hesitant like Lexa was, or unsure the attraction was even reciprocated. But there was also the possibility of something else preventing her from acknowledging the attraction. She had never heard the young woman mention anything about her love life in the Ark, or on the ground before meeting her.

 

She suspected the blonde to have learned a bit more about their traditions, though, because she had apparently stopped asking Raven to help her with her braids. Instead, she let the Nightbloods test several patterns on her. Lexa's heart had skipped a beat when she first saw the healer ask for the children's help, but she was also disappointed that Clarke had not asked for her help either.

 

For now, Lexa had decided not to make any advances to Clarke until Mount Weather attacked, or snow fell and prevented the battle from happening until next spring. They both had a lot to worry about to add awkwardness to it by initiating a discussion they might not be ready for. But she was not willing to let things eternally unsaid until it festered like an untreated wound.

 

So she just enjoyed the discussions and meals she shared with her healer, as well as the rare touches of comfort or support that Clarke had started to give her since the night she had helped her sort the fate of her people.

 

The days were very cold now, but Lexa knew from experience that snow would probably not come for another month. If Mount Weather decided to strike before winter, they would probably do it soon. It would be logical, for them, to claim the land close to winter, as it would give them the cold months to organize the defense of their new territory, and they would have settled in the lands enough at the beginning of spring to comfortably start planting. But since they must have some ways of producing food inside the Mountain, they might not follow this most logical path, and wait until they would be sure that no snow would disrupt their plans.

 

The answer arrived at the end of the week with Indra's urgent message: a missile had struck _Tondisi_.

 

It was time.

 

Lexa immediately canceled all the planned meetings with ambassadors after officially declaring war to the _Maunon_. Then she sent several warriors with orders to ready the departure of the warriors stationed in Polis. Most of the troops had already been moved closer to the Mountain, so it was more of an escort than an army that would leave the capitol. They would travel swiftly, and should reach Indra by tomorrow night.

 

She summoned Clarke, sharing the message with her, and giving her one candle-mark to ensure Raven, Monty and herself were ready to leave. They all knew this moment was coming, so they should not need more to prepare.

 

She then warned Titus of her departure. Her Flame keeper knew of her plans, and his only objection had been the team Lexa had chosen to lead – he feared the Flame would be irretrievable if she was killed by the acid fog or taken by the Mountain. But Lexa was _Heda_ , and she could not let anyone else in charge of the most delicate mission.

 

Finally, she copied the orders she had crafted weeks ago and called for messengers to bring them to all the clans chiefs. It demanded that they prepare their own troops to retaliate if the initial attack against the Mountain failed, and the war dissolved in an open conflict on _Trikru_ territory.

 

It was a necessary, but also extremely risky precaution. Because if she was victorious, all her opponents would have fresh, ready troops while she would have only combat-weary ones. She was gambling on the fact that they would not dare to move against _Heda_. It was why she had not sent out the orders earlier – the clans would not have time to consult with their old allies. If only one clan moved against her, it would be crushed by the others. She was betting on that fear to keep them all in place.

 

A candle-mark later, she joined her escort and the three sky-people. Anya had been explained the full plan earlier, and was accompanying them. For the duration of the trip, Lexa tasked her with keeping an eye on Lincoln and Octavia. She would deliver them to Indra, after which their fate would be decided by the village chief.

 

There was little talk as they traveled, because they had to maintain a fast pace. The sooner they reached the area around Mount Weather, the smoother the plan would go as timing would be most important. Indra had confirmed in her message that she was already following Lexa's instructions.

 

Once the missile had struck, Lexa had asked Indra to feed the _Maunon's_ arrogance. All nearby villages would stage an apparently hasty and disorganized exodus. The number of scouts in a few areas would be drastically reduced, while small groups would lead seemingly uncoordinated attacks against the Reapers in others.

 

The Mountain was convinced of the superiority that technology gave them. They expected Lexa's people to react with fear, so that was what Lexa and Clarke had planned to show them.

 

Because an overly confident opponent always made mistakes.

 

When they finally met with Indra in the command center they had established in the forest, away from all the villages and far enough from the Mountain that none of its scouts would stumble upon it, the general was stern but satisfied. As expected, the first missile had been followed by others that had struck the most populated villages.

 

Or, more precisely, the villages that had been the most populated before they discretely evacuated as many people as possible.

 

They had passed through _Tondisi_ , and Lexa had seen the devastation a missile could cause for the first time. She had seen the burned bodies and the destroyed houses. She wondered how many of the volunteers had regretted their choice to stay when fire fell upon them. She wondered, briefly, what she would have chosen in their place, if she was not _Heda_.

 

But she was _Heda_. And she had to ensure the sacrifice she had ordered would not be for nothing.

 

So far, it seemed the Mountain was bombing with some regularity, which Raven analyzed as either the time needed for the spotter to move from one place to the next and confirm coordinates, or perhaps the time needed to reload the weapon.

 

Despite the horrors the missiles left behind, and the flow of injured men and women that they had passed, things were going as expected.

 

The sky people had taken the scenes of destruction especially hard, though they had made an effort to keep their composure. She heard them whispering amongst themselves, but did not bother to try and make out what they were saying. Clarke had begged her to stop the group when they encountered those that had been injured by the missiles, but Lexa refused and pressed on.

 

''They volunteered, _Klark_. Once the battle is over and the Mountain's shadow no longer looms over the lives of my people, you may heal them. But until then, your attention and strength is needed elsewhere. Do not lose sight of the main goal because of some of the consequences along the way.''

 

The blonde had visibly wanted to argue her case further, but Lexa had shook her head and silenced her with a glare before glancing meaningfully around them. This was not one of their private conversation, where she accepted and even welcomed a challenge of her opinions. Clarke nodded her acceptance, but kept staring longingly at the wounded.

 

Indra informed them that no _Maunon_ had been seen yet, except for a spotter that had been disposed of a few hours ago. Since two more missiles had been sent after his death, there was probably another in one of the areas where they had reduced the number of scouts to convince the Mountain of their disorganization.

 

Lexa inspected the preparations with Indra, Clarke and Anya. They reviewed the plan again, answering final questions about timing and other missions.

 

Indra decided to use Lincoln's and Octavia's help in the Reapers tunnels, but warned that she did not care what happened to them during the battle, and that Lincoln's forgiveness was in no way guaranteed even if they survived and won this war. To which Raven had snorted.

 

That was when Lexa first realized the distance between Clarke and the mechanic. The other brunette disapproved of Clarke's choice to entrust Lexa with Lincoln's fate, and not to ask for his death in exchange of Finn's. She hoped this would not interfere with the young woman's mission – Monty seemed to have found back his purpose now that they were about to attack those who had taken his companions, but it was becoming obvious that none of them were used to the horrors of war. There were countless stories of brilliant _sekens_ who had been paralyzed by fear and died at their first battle. Because no matter what warriors could tell you about their own experiences, it was never enough to prepare you to live through it yourself.

 

The teams were quickly organized. Anya and Raven's group left immediately, as they had a few hours of walking to reach their target, and would need to be ready as soon as possible. Indra, Lexa and Clarke stayed put, waiting for the news of the scouts to officially launch the assault. The waiting was frustrating, but they could not move closer to the Mountain without alarming them and being caught in acid fog.

 

They slept in turns that night, and Lexa was thankful for the years of experience that allowed her to find rest despite the unnerving circumstances. Clarke, however, kept tossing and turning.

 

''You need to sleep. You will be of no use otherwise.'' Lexa told her when the blonde's noise woke her up.

 

''I can't rest. What if they attack while I am asleep?'' She whispered back feverishly.

 

''Then the warriors on duty will awake us. Sleep. You barely slept last night as well. Besides, the Mountain men are probably waiting for daylight. There have been no missiles since two candle-marks before dark. They don't know the forest well enough to chance it at night.''

 

''You are probably right.''

 

The healer remained silent after that, and Lexa had closed her eyes when a worried voice commented behind her.

 

''I don't think they will bother with more missiles. There are only very small villages left unharmed, and they must have seen all the survivors fleeing.''

 

''That is why I sent Anya and Raven as soon as we arrived.''

 

They grew silent again, and Lexa regulated her breathing to relax and fall asleep.

 

''Lexa?'' Clarke whispered, lower than before.

 

''Um?'' She replied, eyes still closed.

 

''Don't die tomorrow.''

 

She couldn't promise that. So she just pretended that she was already asleep.

 

It was mid-morning when the scout arrived with news that a large group of men had exited the Mountain. Lexa nodded to Indra, giving her the signal to start her own part in the attack. Then she turned to Clarke.

 

''Await the signal.'' She reminded.

 

Grim faced, the blonde nodded. Lexa saw her exchange a look with Gustus, and rose an eyebrow in question, but Clarke just turned to the woodworkers from Polis that she had to command during the battle. Ryder, one of the guards assigned to her, shadowed her.

 

Lexa checked one last time with the senior scout that he knew his mission, and looked at Monty. The boy was anxious, but determined. It would have to do.

 

She barked her last orders, and then led her own group of warriors towards the Mountain men.

 

She stopped under the cover of the trees and watched as her enemies approached. As expected, they were not wearing their usual hazmat suits.

 

Perfect.

 

Though they had never managed to enter it, years of dealing with the Mountain had enabled Lexa's people to learn several things.

 

One of them was the exact area covered by the acid fog.

 

She glanced at the excited warriors around her. Many had a loved one they wished to avenge, but she had asked Indra to handpick this particular group because they would have to control their blood thirst in the heat of battle.

 

They were all equipped with a large, roughly rectangular shield that was made from the dropship Clarke had arrived in. According to Raven, this metal would be solid enough to stop the bullets of the _Maunons_ weapons, unlike their usual leather armor. Unfortunately, they were too big and heavy to allow fighting, and would have to be discarded at some point.

 

Lexa waited until one of the warrior whispered that the blue flag had been waved. The team led by the senior scout and escorting Monty was in place. Hopefully, the same was true for Anya's. They could begin whenever she wanted.

 

She scanned the land where the acid fog had long prevented the growth of a forest as luxurious as the rest of Trikru territory. She had spent many month as a _seken_ in this area of the forest, and had no difficulties in finding the peculiar tree stumps or oddly-shaped rocks Indra had told her about. She mentally evaluated the distances.

 

The Mountain men were much closer, but had yet to see them. They walked slowly and cautiously, but the occasional stumble revealed how unused they were to walking on an uneven ground. Some had less trouble than others – probably those that used to go out in the hazmat suits.

 

Finally, they passed the stumps Lexa had waited for them to reach. With one hand, she signaled to her warriors and they attacked, letting out ferocious cries.

 

The Mountain men were surprised by the sudden assault, but recovered almost immediately and opened fire. As soon as she saw one aim his weapon, Lexa ordered for the shields to be held up in front.

 

One of her warriors failed to heave the piece of metal in time and fell to the ground with a grunt of pain. She pushed on with the rest, protected by the barrier of shields.

 

The Mountain men seemed to realize that they were wasting their ammunition, because their fire reduced – though it did not stop – and when she chanced a glance outside of her protection, Lexa saw them begin to retreat, one of them holding a small rectangular device next to his mouth.

 

She smirked.

 

The _Maunon_ could not unleash the acid fog without sacrificing its own soldiers, because they were now too far from the Mountain door to reach it in time. And from what Monty had said, their population was not numerous enough to afford such a sacrifice lightly. Moreover, Lexa was only accompanied by a relatively small group of warriors, not much larger than the ones the Mountain would have seen attacking Reapers since the first missile.

 

As far as they could tell, this attack was simply one more assault from desperate, vengeful but most importantly disorganized warriors.

 

The logical response would therefore be to retreat to the safety of the Mountain and then release the fog for a few hours to take care of the problem without risking any of their own. Or, if they were too impatient to proceed with caution, send reinforcement.

 

In both cases, they would have to open the heavy door of their bunker home.

 

She signaled to a warrior that had stayed behind, hidden in the bushes. He immediately raised and waved a red flag. Behind him, and all the way to where Clarke waited about half a mile away, a long chain of seconds and scouts would repeat the signal, making it travel in a few seconds.

 

She called for her warriors to hold their positions and awaited Clarke's response, crouched low to the ground.

 

She had been there when Raven had tested this invention, she knew how ground shaking it would be.

 

She glimpsed at the rounded pots as they flew over her and her warriors, and landed in a burst at the feet of the furthest Mountain man.

 

The explosion was loud, and immediately followed by three others that landed close to the first bomb. She heard the screams of pain of her enemies and their cries of confusion as Lexa's people retaliated in a way they had never expected, effectively cutting off their retreat.

 

Lexa signaled again to her warrior, making him wave a white flag to inform Clarke that she could stop launching the makeshift bombs with the trebuchets. The aim was unfortunately not precise enough to use the trebuchets while her warriors engaged in close-range combat.

 

Raven had fashioned a bomb that, though nowhere near as devastating as a missile, caused a lot of dark smoke that rose towards the sky. For a few precious seconds, the Mountain men were stuck, unable to move closer to the safety of their bunker without breathing in the heavy, burning smoke. Lexa used that time to make her archers take out as many of their opponents as possible, while the others discarded the shields and ran towards their enemies to fight with swords.

 

This was the riskiest part of the mission. Because they had no idea how well the _Maunon_ could supervise the battle outside, and if the outcome of the battle was too obvious, they would probably decide to unleash the fog – no use in waiting for soldiers that would never reach the door. So, Lexa had decided to assume the worst-case scenario – that they could directly witness the fight – and had only taken twenty-five warriors, including Gustus and herself. She had had to voluntarily lower the odds in her favor.

 

If she had misjudged how much her warriors could take, in any way, they could all die. If they were not enough, the Mountain men would overwhelm them. If they were too numerous – or if the Mountain decided they did not care about sacrificing their soldiers after all – they would probably not have time to escape the fog.

 

She slashed at the right arm of an enemy, making him drop his weapon from the pain, and continued with a quick thrust of the blade into his unprotected neck. She pushed back her next opponent, who was slowed by the arrow in his left thigh, as she stepped over the body of the man she had just killed. She barked an order, and the archers abandoned their bows to join the rest in close-range combat.

 

Two of the archers grabbed the body Lexa had been guarding. She had chosen her target carefully, aiming for the man who had been radioing as they retreated – most likely an officer of some sort. The archers quickly searched the man until they found what Monty had told them about: a small, thin and hard rectangle with Gonasleng and a picture of the dead man.

 

A card, she now knew, that served as a key within the Mountain's walls.

 

Two other archers had searched another man and had found a similar card. Indra herself had retrieved one on the body of the spotter she had killed the previous day.

 

Lexa took a step back from the fight, trusting Gustus to protect her, as she ordered for the cards to be delivered to the senior scout and Indra by the fastest warriors.

 

All of this had happened in less than a minute after the bombs, and Lexa saw a flare rise in the sky as she re-entered the fray.

 

It was sign from the senior scout that the Mountain men had opened the door. It was time for Anya's team to act.

 

Monty had learned that the energy of the Mountain came from the dam a few miles away. Raven's task was to destroy this source of power so that the door would stay open long enough for Monty's team to enter the bunker. The tricky part was that Raven suspected them to have a secondary source of power that would take over if the first was disabled. Such systems, she had said, usually had a delay, but they could not guess how long the delay was. If it was a short one, their opponents might manage to close the door before they could enter.

 

Which was why Indra had been harassing the Reapers with small attacks, and was now marching against them with the largest part of the army. Monty and Bellamy had escaped through a chute and had seen a door in the tunnels, that led to the Mountain. Logically, the key-cards they had just taken would be able to open that door for Indra and her troops.

 

Lexa fought viciously, aiming her blows to maim rather than kill. It was not something she relished in doing, but necessary. The longer the Mountain men believed they had a chance, the longer her and her warriors would be safe from the fog, and the greater the chance of Monty and the scouts entering the Mountain. The destruction of the power source might be enough to protect them, but she could not rely solely on this wish. Around her, the trained warriors similarly restrained their attacks in order to subdue their opponents without killing them.

 

Though the initial numbers had been almost even, Lexa was worried to see that she had more warriors down than the _Maunons_. Their weapons were not ideal for close-range, but they proved no less devastating. Fortunately, most of the remaining enemies were wounded in some way or another, and only a few were still able to fire their weapons as her warriors aimed primarily for the arms. Some of the Mountain men were on their knees, raising their empty and bloody hands in surrender.

 

A second flare rose in the sky – the signal that the senior scout had been able to enter the Mountain. Now, she had to trust that his team would safely escort Monty to the command room of the Mountain, where the boy's mission was to disable the acid fog, the missiles, and the door. As well as any other weapons they might have had no knowledge of.

 

The two obstacles that had prevented all her predecessors from taking the Mountain – the fog and the heavy door – were down.

 

The battle to destroy Mount Weather and erase its shadow had now truly begun.


	21. Mount Weather - part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of the battle. Enjoy!

Now that the complicated part of breaking into the Mountain was over, Lexa focused back on the battle. Noticing that the odds were still mostly even, she called out for the scouts that had remained behind to relay her signal with the flags to join them. There should be no more need for the trebuchets, and she could use a couple fresh warriors to finish the Mountain men.

 

Besides her, she saw Gustus fall to one knee when a downed enemy managed to reach a discarded gun and pull the trigger. She felt a shiver run down her spine but knew she could not help him now – not until the fighting was over. One of her warriors had obviously witnessed the scene as well and crushed the man's wrist with his foot without breaking away from his own fight.

 

Though they had been mostly deprived of their guns early on, the Mountain men all carried knives, and they unfortunately proved more proficient with them than Clarke. Their injuries slowed them, but they fought with a strength only desperate men could achieve. And the initial assault had cost many warriors to Lexa.

 

Years of suffering at the hands of the Mountain, however, had infused her own warriors with a deep rage, and even those who, like Gustus, had been wounded by a bullet kept fighting to the best of their ability.

 

Lexa felt a burning line on her calf and, without looking, kicked at the man below her. She could feel the flow of the battle turning in her favor. The sight of the two scouts that had joined her had been a clear blow to the morale of her enemies. Also, the smoke from the bombs had completely dissipated by now, and they had noticed it. Their party broke apart, some men attempting to run to the distant, heavy and still open door while others refused to give up the fight.

 

Their disorganization was their downfall. It was easy to kill or knock out the few wounded men when their companions abandoned them.

 

She wiped the blood off her sword on one of the dying men, ordering her warriors to get the fleeing _Maunons_ and tie up the prisoners. She would keep them alive, and offer them to the clans that had suffered from the Mountains actions. Blood would have blood. Hopefully, it would also help compensate for the chiefs wounded pride at not being part of the actual battle.

 

Still, it was dangerous to stay in the open now that the fight was over. The gate was still open, but they had yet to receive news that the acid fog had been disabled.

 

She turned to Gustus. One warrior was applying pressure to his wound. She hoped he would last until Clarke could heal him.

 

''The Nymph gave you a radio, didn't she? Do not lie to me, Gustus. I saw you checking for it earlier.'' She added when the huge man seemed about to deny her affirmation.

 

She should have expected something like that when Clarke stopped arguing about Lexa being in the most dangerous group a few days ago.

 

Begrudgingly, Gustus showed her the device. She nodded.

 

''Tell her to send us the second unit. We have too many wounded and prisoners to carry on our own. All those who can walk must retreat beyond the reach of the fog until we know our troops have taken control.''

 

Initially, she had planned to immediately follow inside if the door was still open. But the trees were closer, and there were more wounded than she had anticipated. This fight had been too even – five more warriors would have saved a dozen lives.

 

But now was not the time for regrets. She led her wounded warriors away, hating that this miscalculation forced her to temporarily retreat. She was proven right in her decision, however, when she saw the door close just as her first warriors reached the trees.

 

As the distance was not so great, it only took a few minutes for the second unit to reach her. She immediately ordered the wounded to go to the healing tent that had been set near the trebuchets – she knew Clarke would tend to her warriors. Gustus refused to go, claiming that his injury was minor. The red patch on his thigh failed to support his words, but she had had him as a guard long enough to know that he would not abandon his post in the heat of battle when he could still fight. She considered using his radio and asking Clarke to come and heal him, but it would be selfish. Now that her only real part in the battle was over, the blonde must already be busy healing warriors from Indra, and perhaps even Reapers if the warriors managed to knock them out instead of killing them.

 

The healer had been adamant that whatever had been down by the Mountain to turn men into Reapers, there was a chance it was reversible – especially with her abilities. The problem, however, was that she needed to approach and touch the Reaper to examine and cure it. Which was impossible unless the Reaper was tightly bounded or unconscious.

 

Eventually, Clarke had accepted Lexa's argument that the Reapers could not be made a priority in this fight. If the battle allowed the warriors to subdue rather than kill, and Indra had enough warriors that she could spare a few to carry the mad monsters, the healer was allowed to try and cure those. But there were hundreds of sane grounders trapped inside the Mountain, and their rescue and the fall of the Mountain would remain the main objectives of the battle.

 

Now surrounded by healthy warriors – except for Gustus and her lightly cut calf that she had quickly bandaged – she waited for the signal that she could retrieve the rest of her wounded warriors and finish the invasion of the Mountain. She sent one scout to get news from Indra. She had to know if she had been able to enter the Mountain as well, or if they should fear Reapers attacking them in retaliation.

 

Several minutes passed, bringing with them her freshly healed warriors that refused to stay behind after Clarke had tended to them. Lexa felt a little guilty of asking her Nymph to exceptionally use her powers even on injuries that would have been fine with stitching and time, knowing the toll it must take on her.

 

Hopefully, the battle would not last too long.

 

The healed warriors also informed her that Reapers had been sent to Clarke's tent, and one of them offered her a piece of paper where Clarke had scribbled down her observations and conclusions in _gonasleng_. Warriors were taught the language, but Lexa knew her own proficiency had greatly increased through her many discussions with Clarke and her increased reading. If the blonde had used old scientific words again, Lexa might remember them, but it was highly unlikely a warrior would be able to repeat them faithfully.

 

She read the missive. She knew she would have to talk to Clarke to fully understand it, but the main point was that her warriors had been injected with some sort of poison that made them mad. Curing them was as easy as waiting for the poison to be eliminated naturally, but the weaning of the substance could prove lethal. Through her abilities, Clarke had been able to heal the Reapers brought to her, but the process was as exhausting as healing a fatal wound. Moreover, she mentioned psychological – a word Lexa had never encountered before – damage, that was beyond her healing.

 

She stared at this last sentence. Between her training as a warrior and witnessing Clarke explain their injuries to people, she was pretty sure she had a good idea of how the human body worked. At least, she had thought that she knew the name of all organs, if not the details of their functions. But she had no idea what psychological referred to, despite how important it sounded in the way Clarke warned of the possible damage.

 

And more importantly, why was it beyond her abilities? Was it the weakness she hid? The one organ that her body was incapable of healing? And did the same limitation apply to her own healing?

 

It was a matter for another time, though. She asked a warrior for fire stones and burned the paper – she could not let a potentially dangerous information exist in written form.

 

She looked up from where she was stepping on the ashes when a scout cried out in victory. The door of the Mountain was opening again. A second later, one scout slipped out and waved a great flag.

 

Her people would never have to fear the fog again.

 

She divided her troops in two, tasking the smaller group to take care of the wounded warriors they had had to abandon earlier. She hoped some were still alive. She ordered for them to be brought to the Healing Nymph, with the exception of the Mountain men. She might have less blood to offer to the clans, but she would not have Clarke expand her energy on people who had bled _Heda's_ people for decades.

 

The second group accompanied her inside the Mountain.

 

The scout was waiting for them at the entrance, and explained that they had reached the command room easily enough. They had captured an old man who seemed to be one of the leaders – Monty had identified him as the President Dante Wallace – but the remaining guards and the general population had retreated in lower levels and opened fire whenever they stepped a foot in the corridors.

 

With a nod, Lexa sent a handful of warriors to pick up the metal shields they had used in their first charge. It sounded like they would need them again. Then she followed the scout to the command room.

 

It was a large room filled with devices of the old world. One of the wall was covered with moving pictures – movies transmitted by cameras, she understood, recalling Clarke and Raven's explanations of the devices below the Tower. Monty was tapping on something while looking at another screen. She had absolutely no idea what he was doing, which unnerved her. She hated having to rely on someone she did not fully trust.

 

She was glad Clarke and herself had not explained the most likely fate of his companions to the boy. Right now, he had too much power over the situation.

 

She stood in front of the numerous movies, studying them.

 

''Report, _Monti kom Skaikru_.'' She demanded.

 

The boy startled – he had always been nervous in her presence – and pointed at the device he was working on.

 

''Yes, Commander. I have hacked into the main frame, so I could control everything from this computer. I have turned off the acid fog, and started an evacuation process of whatever they use, so they won't be able to activate it manually. I have also destroyed the program they use to enter the coordinates of the missiles targets. I haven't been able to find anything about how much weaponry they have left.''

 

He then waved in the direction of the screens she was still studying. She could see a group of people – only five – hiding behind metal tables in a corridor, their guns at the ready. Probably the reason her warriors could not progress further at the moment.

 

''Here is the projection of their security cameras. There are areas that are not covered by the system. I can't project all of them at once either.'' He explained.

 

She had noticed the numbers in the corner of each image, and was making sense of them. The first one had to refer to the level the camera showed. The rest probably indicated an area. Through this logic, she mentally build a map until she had a better understanding of who was positioned where. She studied it a bit longer to memorize it before nodding at Monty.

 

''Show me the rest.''

 

The boy did something with device again, and the images changed. She took note of the numbers before focusing on the scenes they depicted.

 

She let out a growl when she saw the cages holding her people.

 

Movement on another frame caught her attention. Indra. So, she had managed to enter from her side. Perfect.

 

''Can we reach the prison without going through one of the defended corridors?'' She asked.

 

Monty grabbed a nearby piece of paper and handed it to her. ''I printed this earlier. It's a layout of Mount Weather.''

 

She refrained from glaring at him. What kind of soldier forgot to present her with such an important thing immediately?

 

Oblivious to her irritation, he indicated which corridors were defended, and pointed to the area where her people were being detained. The plan gave her a much better vision of the situation. It seemed Mount Weather had very few fighters left – they were only defending the access corridors of the area were the rest of the population had retreated.

 

Monty added. ''The rest of them are in this main hall of Level 5, as well as the rest of the sky people. I don't think the Mountain men in that room can breathe the air from the outside. Opening that door is a death sentence for them.''

 

She held back a sigh. She had no wish to kill children – regardless of the people they were born to – but she would not sacrifice warriors to save them either.

 

She turned to her warriors.

 

''I want three teams. The first two will go to these corridors. Do not engage the fight, use the shields to force them to waste their bullets. They have the advantage of position and weaponry, but we will wear them out. The third team will accompany me to meet up with Indra. It is time to free our people.''

 

Her speech was met with cheers, and the warriors obediently divided themselves in organized units of eight warriors each. She used the plan and cameras to determine the fastest way to Indra, and set out.

 

It gave her an eerie feeling to march down the empty and dark corridors. Though her warriors were trained since childhood to walk silently, their steps echoed around them. She found the whole thing oppressive, and it made her eager to finish the battle and return to the fresh air and open spaces of the forest.

 

She could understand why the Mountain men had searched for a way out of this despicable home. But they should never have harmed _Heda's_ people.

 

She saw Indra and called out to her, knowing her general would recognize her voice. It would be stupid to survive the battle and receive a stray arrow from a nervous _seken_. The general saluted her Commander, and they quickly divided her troops to go help her teams harassing the remaining Mountain men, and occupy and search the rest of the Mountain. No one would escape her justice today. Indra accompanied her to the room filled with cages.

 

Despite having seen it on the screen earlier, she was still furious at the sight that greeted her.

 

Her people were thin, extremely thin, with dark patches under their eyes. There were hundreds of cages, some piled against the walls, others hanging from the ceiling. Worse, a good number of the prisoners barely reacted to their entrance, too weak or numb to realize that freedom had come for them at long last. Some did not move at all, and Lexa was convinced some of them were dead.

 

She felt sick.

 

She gritted her teeth and walked to the closest cage. She unsheathed her sword and struck the lock with the pommel until it gave out.

 

''You. '' She ordered, pointing at a handful of warriors. ''Find the keys. The others, help me open those cages and find a way to lower the rest.''

 

She turned to Indra. ''Are the tunnels safe enough to evacuate them?'' She asked.

 

The general nodded. ''Lincoln's knowledge of the tunnels proved useful.'' She admitted begrudgingly. ''We were able to clear the fastest path to the door, and I left half of my troops to hold the entrances leading to this path. If they can walk, a small escort should be enough to bring them back to my healer.''

 

Because the tunnels were farther from Clarke, they had set up a second healing tent managed by Nyko. He was under orders to sent ahead to Clarke anything that could not be managed by field dressing or a few stitches, unless of course it was unlikely the warriors would survive the trip. The people they were now freeing were exhausted, malnourished and weak, but seemed otherwise unharmed. Lexa doubted this was something anything but time and proper food could heal.

 

She nodded her approval, and Indra immediately started to organize an escort and sort the prisoners who could walk from those who couldn't and would be evacuated with bigger troops and stretchers. The general ordered the warriors escorting the first group to return with as many bottles of water as they could carry, so they could start caring for the weakest prisoners.

 

Lexa broke a few more locks, but had to admit that the sheer number of cages made the task very time consuming. She still had to see to the resisting Mountain men. So she entrusted Indra with the supervision of the rescue and returned to the command room.

 

She demanded an update of the situation. Her warriors had suffered almost no losses, but the situation was at a stalemate since the Mountain men had apparently understood that she was trying to exhaust their ammunition and had stopped shooting unless a warrior showed without the protection of the shields. Three warriors with gunshot wounds had been evacuated.

 

She could lay siege and wait for her enemies to surrender, now that she had eliminated all their dangerous weapons and also significantly reduced their number of trained warriors. However, she was not feeling patient.

 

And a prolonged fight without asking for the support of the other clans would just lead to more political problems, whereas a lightning-attack would be more likely to be praised than criticized.

 

To facilitate the aftermath, she did not need to simply win. She needed a fast, clean and absolute victory.

 

She turned to the sky boy that was still sitting in front of the device – computer, she recalled – eyes fixated on the cameras showing Indra freeing her people.

 

''Is there any way for me to talk to them without walking in those corridors?''

 

She had seen one of the men use a radio, and both group of defenders had stopped shooting at roughly the same time, from the reports. They had some way to communicate.

 

The boy startled again. Lexa had no idea what he would do in Polis later, but she already knew he was absolutely not warrior material.

 

''Er… Yes, I can do that. Just give me a minute.''

 

Soon he handed her a small device, strongly resembling the one from Raven's radio they had used to contact the Ark. She took it and, for the first time, turned her attention to the old man that was tied up in a corner of the room with a couple other Mountain men.

 

''Since you are here, President Wallace, who should I address to demand surrender?'' She asked.

 

The man stubbornly looked away from her. She took another step to tower over him.

 

''Your people have lost this battle already. If you surrender, I will spare the children and perhaps some others. They will be forever banished from my lands, but they will have a chance. A small one.'' She paused and hardened her voice. ''If you do not surrender, I will not rest until each and everyone of your people are dead at my hands. I have the means to blow up that door as soon as your soldiers lose this last, foolish battle.''

 

The man stared at her, measuring, trying to determine whether or not she truly meant what she had said.

 

She did.

 

''Cage Wallace.'' He replied in a defeated tone. ''My son. He is head of security.''

 

She jutted her jaw towards the screens. ''Which one is it?''

 

The old man indicated a brown-haired man that was amongst one of the defending groups. She fixated her gaze on the new leader of her enemies and brought the mike close to her mouth.

 

''Cage Wallace, People of Mount Weather. I am the Commander of the Twelve Clans.''

 

She paused, glancing at the other screens to ensure she had the attention of everyone.

 

''My warriors occupy all the levels of your home, aside from the one you are in. We have disabled all your weapons, and are freeing our own people. I will not leave until I am certain you will never again threaten my people. If you wish to give a chance at life to your children, you will surrender now. If your guards do not lay down their weapons, I will storm those halls with my army, and you will be offered no mercy.''

 

She stared at the stubborn face of Cage Wallace. ''You have five minutes to decide.''

 

She turned off the mike and put it down on a nearby table.

 

''What… what will happen to us, if we surrender?'' The old man asked from behind her.

 

She faced him. ''You will be taken prisoners. Those of you that can go outside will be offered to the clans you harmed to pay the debt of blood. I have a healer that can perform the same operation you did to cure the children and those that will be chosen to take care of them. They will be banished – I do not care where they go. The others will be killed. From what I understand, it is mercy to slit their throat rather than let them die from the air that is toxic to your people.''

 

She was matter of fact in her explanations. She took no pleasure in harming others, unlike some clan chiefs who relished the feeling of power it gave them. She simply felt the pride of accomplished duty. And since those were the people who had killed thousands of her own over the last few decades, she felt no pity for their fate.

 

The old man sagged at her words, but she saw resignation rather than anger. He knew he deserved his fate and would not attempt to present a plea that he knew would go unanswered.

 

His son, however, seemed more conflicted. The guards seemed to be arguing, as were the people in the main room. She briefly toyed with the idea of using their distraction to strike and end the battle, but it would be dishonorable. She would wait until the end of the alleged time. But not a moment longer.

 

She saw one man take the radio from Cage and frowned. What was happening?

 

A voice echoed in the room.

 

''This is Carl Emerson. Do you promise that the children's lives will be spared?''

 

She took back the mike. ''If you surrender, yes. They will receive the same treatment you did, and be banished with a few adults to take care of them. They will only be killed if they try to set a foot on my lands again.'' She confirmed.

 

That seemed to be enough for the man who stepped over the tables he had used as protection, put his gun on the ground and slid it towards her warriors. Then, he moved to the side of the corridor with his hand raised.

 

His actions spurred on the others, and soon the other guards imitated him. Some did so very reluctantly, but all eventually gave in, realizing that there was absolutely no hope of victory. Cage was the last one to deposit his weapon.

 

She gave orders for her warriors to put the weapons away – they had brought large pieces of cloth to allow them to transport the guns without touching them – and tie up the guards. She warned them to be weary of Cage. She did not trust him to come peacefully.

 

He proved her right by struggling and attempting to stab the warrior that restrained him with a concealed knife, but he was quickly contained. Her warrior seemed to take great delight in punching his face until he stopped resisting.

 

It took almost two candle-marks to organize the transfer of the prisoners and the evacuation of the last of her formerly imprisoned people, as well as the guarding and supervision of the rest of Mount Weather population – which included the sky people. Clarke's former companions did not appear to have been mistreated.

 

Since the level they were trapped in contained a lab and surgery room, and the scientists were also present with the general population, Lexa allowed Monty to give them enough power and control back to continue the treatments, with instructions that the children were to be cured first, along with half a dozen of adults who had, according to Dante Wallace, refused blood treatment. Monty had found a file in the computer that allowed her to confirm the names and faces of those people. It seemed the Mountain men had been very rigorous in keeping notes of who supported their methods or not.

 

At least, it spared her the tedious task of interrogating those people until she found the ones less likely to seek a stupid revenge.

 

She had also learned that the woman scientist, Dr Tsing, had been the one to supervise the bleeding of her people as well as the process that turned them into Reapers. According to the file, she had already received the bone marrow treatment that would cure her definitively.

 

She would be brought to Polis with the other leaders from the Mountain, and suffer Death from a Thousand Cuts.

 

She was glad, however, that this woman could advance the process. It meant that Clarke would be able to rest after all the healing she must have done today, and focus on her warriors or the Reapers.

 

Once everything was arranged, she gave the signal to the rest of the army to evacuate. Most followed Indra to go through the tunnels as the Reapers were still a threat and they also had to carry the last rescued warriors to Nyko. Tents had been brought from Polis to house all the freed grounders as comfortably as possible, but Lexa knew she would have to decide what to do with them soon. Some were obviously too weak to travel to Polis immediately as she had initially planned. They were also more numerous than she had expected.

 

Lexa herself exited the Mountain through the main door, followed by a limping Gustus – his wound seemed to have stopped bleeding, but she could see him wince every now and then – and two dozens of warriors. Four remained outside the gate, assuming the first watch of the entrance, in case a spotter attempted to take back control of the command room.

 

As they drew closer to the area where the trebuchets and the healer tent were, Lexa felt an unease grow in her guts. Something felt wrong. Overlooked. She noticed that the warriors around her tensed as well, picking up on the strange atmosphere.

 

She saw Anya approach from afar and frowned. Her old mentor should have been back much earlier. It had already been hours since they completed their mission at the dam. Then she noticed the makeshift stretcher the warriors behind her were carrying, and how few they were compared to the ones who had left the previous day.

 

Something was wrong.

 

She fastened her pace and sent an interrogative look to the general as soon as she was close enough.

 

''Unmarked warriors attacked us as we returned from the dam, _Heda_. We were caught in an ambush. We managed to defend ourselves, but at a great cost, and our last opponent slit his own throat rather than be taken alive.'' She pointed to the stretcher. ''We lost five warriors but have only one badly wounded.''

 

Lexa glanced at the body laying on it. Though it was lying on its side with the back to her, she easily recognized the red jacket. Raven.

 

''We stopped the bleeding.'' Anya continued. ''But the wound is deep and bones are broken. I know she is a friend of Clarke. That's why I did not stop at Nyko's tent.''

 

''You did right.'' Lexa replied. ''The Healing Nymph shall be able to help more than Nyko, and he is busy tending to our people we freed from the Mountain.''

 

And Clarke would want to help her friend, even if they seemed to be in conflict because of Lincoln.

 

Anya nodded while looking around, as if searching for something.

 

''It is too quiet.'' She commented, unsheathing her sword.

 

With that, Lexa realized what had been disturbing her earlier. There was absolutely no sound. It was not abnormal for animals to flee the area of a battle, but it had now been hours since any fighting happened here. The birds should have returned.

 

Or they should hear the cheering and victory songs of the other warriors.

 

Unmarked warriors had attacked Anya...

 

She gestured for the warriors to follow her and rushed through the trees to the clearing where she had last seen Clarke.

 

It was a bloodbath.

 

She gripped her sword tighter as she ordered to search for survivors. She walked through the clearing, searching for a glimpse of blonde hair. She was relieved to see none amongst the dead bodies surrounding the trebuchets.

 

This clearing was supposed to be away from the fighting, so there had been few warriors in it. And between the space needed by the trebuchets and the fact that Clarke's healing was so efficient, it had been decided that it would be easier and less crowded if warriors removed to other areas or joined back the fight as soon as they were healed. No doubt they had also evacuated the cured Reapers.

 

What a mistake.

 

She walked to the healing tent, fearing what she would find inside.

 

'' _Heda_ …'' A weak voice called her before she could pull aside the entrance.

 

She glanced at the man breathing shallowly and quickly by the side of the tent.

 

Ryder. The guard that had been shadowing Clarke.

 

She looked him up and down and held back a grimace. His stomach was pierced. A slow and painful death.

 

The man weakly rose his arm. ''They were too many. I am sorry, _Heda_. They captured the Healing Nymph.'' He coughed and groaned in pain. ''They left this.''

 

She crouched and grabbed what he was offering her. A necklace.

 

A necklace she had offered to Costia years ago, and that her lover had never taken off.

 

 _Azgeda_ had taken Clarke.


End file.
